


The House Over The Wharf

by alpaca_punch, MissAdventurous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, Falling In Love, Haunted Houses, Homeowners Akaashi and Bokuto, M/M, Multi, Nekomata Kuroo, OT4, Open Relationship, Paranormal Investigator Tsukishima, Polyamory, Softcore Porn, haunted house au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpaca_punch/pseuds/alpaca_punch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAdventurous/pseuds/MissAdventurous
Summary: Fixer-upperdidn’t come close to accurately describingThe House: Akaashi's cups kept appearing atop the fridge, his boyfriend called a cheesy ghost show off YouTube to come investigate, and their unwelcome houseguest seemed hellbent on seducing all of them.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 24
Kudos: 346
Collections: HQ Feels (Mostly M or E)





	1. The House

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I'd end up writing a second Haikyuu!! fic, but I _really_ enjoy these four guys and got inspired.
> 
> I'm finished with the whole fic (about ~25,000 words) and will post chapters as I finish editing them.

The house overlooking the wharf resembled the other thatched, wooden buildings that made up Umioka proper. But unlike those others it sat on a tired foundation with a veranda that creaked with the softest touch. Only a garden of spindly weeds kept the home company up on its hillside.

Akaashi had picked it for two very specific reasons: First, the beautiful view overlooking Umioka's oftentimes empty boatyard and the rest of the ocean. Second, he didn't have to worry about pesky neighbors.

The second reason turned out to be more of a letdown than the first when on the morning of his first official day in the house, Akaashi woke to a knock against the door-- _no small feat considering the sound traveled all the way up to his bedroom on the second floor_. He forced his eyelids open against the dewy light. He'd been up until late the night before unpacking and his forehead throbbed now at the early hour. 

He finally peeled himself out of bed and padded across the cold floor. He wondered if his visitor had given up on him-- _he wouldn't have waited around this long to give someone a welcome-to-the-middle-of-nowhere pie or some other nonsense like that._ He looked out the window and saw a young girl standing on the porch. _Still there, waiting,_ his mind supplied unhelpfully. 

Akaashi frowned and opened the door, “Can I help you?” He thought of how Bokuto's oba used to sit out on her apartment balcony and heckle the neighborhood kids playing down below. Though in her case her grandson had lauched a toy car straight through her glass sliding door more than once. 

The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open to gape at him. In her hands she cradled a ceramic bowl. Akaashi's frown deepened but the girl just continued staring. 

Akaashi looked around the property: an empty expanse of weeds and brush that bled into the tree line the only things visible for miles. He turned his attention back to the girl: “Did you walk up here?” _Right on his way to turning into oba indeed_.

She blinked at him. Akaashi blinked back. The girl twisted on her heels and shoved the bowl down onto the stoop--the liquid inside sloshed and Akaashi had visions of it spewing out everywhere or the ceramic splitting into a hundred shards. 

The tips of her ears flushed red as she hurried off the porch. “Wait--” Akaashi stepped forward only to stop when a pain jolted up his foot. 

Akaashi cursed under his breath, holding his foot up to see a pair of pink scratches gouged into his heel. He glared at the spiky twig he'd stepped on. When he looked back up the girl had already disappeared down the hill. 

Akaashi limped back up onto the veranda and crouched down in front of the bowl. The heavy scent of cream reached his nose. He picked the bowl up only to hear a loud meow. He looked around for the cat, expecting an emaciated tabby. _Some feral creature that more resembled a lynx than an overfed persian._ His eyes strained against the dim light of morning. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Feeding the strays, huh?” Akaashi mumbled to himself, settling that he’d gone crazy only 24 hours out of the city. He left the bowl outside anyway and went back in to bandage his foot.

* * *

Akaashi mopped sweat off his brow, knee-deep in the weeds and hacking away with a trowel. He’d barely cleared a square patch only a few meters wide when he heard the hum of an engine. He stood up and dusted off his pants. 

Down the long, curling road he saw Bokuto’s familiar sedan pulling in. Akaashi turned a glance down at the azaleas still trapped in their black plastic planters and sighed. Bokuto hopped out of his car and fell to the ground with a squawk, calf tangled in the brush surrounding the driveway.

He shook his leg, trying to detach the green tendrils clinging to his pant leg. “Hey, babe! How’s it going?” He hopped up to his feet with a broad smile.

“I was better before,” Akaashi feigned an eye roll as Bokuto laughed him off. He spared one more apologetic glance down at the flowers before he ushered Bokuto inside. 

Inside the house the five cardboard boxes that made up the remainder of Akaashi’s belongings sat in the entryway. Akaashi went to the kitchen and pulled out one of the melon sodas that he hated but Bokuto loved. 

“Hell yes!” Bokuto pulled Akaashi close and planted a kiss on his cheek. Akaashi tolerated the contact before shooing Bokuto away and getting started on a cup of tea. 

Bokuto headed back out onto the veranda, taking a seat down on the stoop. He twisted around and called to Akaashi: “Your plants look good!” 

“They’d be happier if _you_ hadn’t interrupted me,” Akaashi came out to join him with a mug cradled in his hand. He looked out at the start of his meager garden. 

All nine azaleas sat nestled in the soft ground, arranged in three perfect rows. Akaashi hadn’t realized the cup had slipped from his fingers until hot liquid splashed against his toes. Akaashi lurched backward and Bokuto jumped up.

Akaashi waved him off before he could come and fuss over him, “I’m fine.” He heard rushing in his ears. He looked away from the flowers and carefully picked up the shards of broken ceramic. 

“You’re going to get jumpy out here by yourself,” Bokuto’s eyebrows pulled together, “Big, old lonely house.” Akaashi couldn't keep looking at him-- _not with those saucer-wide eyes_. 

“It’s only 785 sq ft,” Akaashi headed inside to throw the broken mug into the waste bin. Bokuto followed him in and propped his arms up on the counter. 

“Keiji,” Bokuto’s voice came out quiet and Akaashi’s heart sunk, “What freaked you out?” Akaashi picked at the dry skin of his cuticle. He frowned at the sting as a bead of blood gathered at the edge of his thumbnail.

“ _The house,_ ” Akaashi exhaled sharply through his nose as he put his kettle back on the stone. He twisted to look at Bokuto properly, “I didn’t plant those flowers.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened, “So who did?” Akaashi sighed and shrugged up his shoulders. _No one else around for miles_. Bokuto studied him closely with his voice still soft: “You alright?”

_“Fine,”_ Akaashi rubbed between his eyes, “Maybe I blacked out or something.” He wondered if the excuse sounded as hollow to Bokuto as it did to him.

“Or,” Bokuto’s voice drawled and he draped himself across the island countertop, “Do you think _maybe_ it’s haunted?” He couldn’t even hide the glimmer in his eyes. 

“No,” Akaashi wrinkled up his nose. 

“But maybe it’s a friendly ghost--” Bokuto opened his mouth to continue, but then the kettle squealed and they both jumped. Bokuto banged his elbows on the countertop and Akaashi cleared nearly a foot up in the air. They looked at each other in stupefied silence. 

Bokuto's sudden laughter wracked his shoulders. 

“There is no ghost,” Akaashi insisted.

* * *

When Akaashi flopped out of bed, the low drone of the TV on in the background and Bokuto snoring next to him, he'd almost forgotten about the ghost situation. Then he turned on the bathroom light. Across the mirror in craggly blue toothpaste scrawled a single word: _Hi._

All the color drained from his face. He picked up a pillow and tossed it at Bokuto. Bokuto snuffled loudly, his arms flailing outward, “Babe?!”

“Did you put my toothpaste on the mirror?” Akaashi's voice pitched high and it took all his strength to level it back to a tone resembling something _sane_ , "Did you, Bo?"

Bokuto rubbed crusted drool off his chin with the side of his hand, “What?”

“The toothpaste on the mirror,” Akaashi repeated with a finger pointed to the bathroom in question. Bokuto yawned and heaved himself up onto his feet. 

Bokuto scratched the back of his neck. He looked confused with his eyes squinted up-- vision probably blurred and unable to make out how toothpaste got on the mirror. When realization hit, his eyes lit up like a firework: “See! _A friendly ghost.”_

“I need to have Casper evicted,” Akaashi decided. Bokuto let out a scandalized gasp. Akaashi didn't regret it: _Who wanted to live in a haunted house anyway? Bokuto_ , his mind unhelpfully reminded, _Bokuto probably did_. 

Just like that Bokuto’s energy bounced back, “I know who we should call!”

* * *

Tsukishima rubbed his temples, fighting off a pounding in the center of his forehead. He squinted at the brightness of his computer. He groaned when he saw the new email. With any luck, it wouldn’t be another 13 year old girl professing her love for Kaegeyama. 

_I like my job_ , came Tsukishima’s mental mantra, he adjusted it more aptly: _I tolerate my job._

Working for _The King of Spectral Sightings_ hadn’t been something Tsukishima wanted to be involved with. But, it padded out his wallet nicely and gave him something to do when he wasn’t working on archival work for the Museum-- _and who really needed free time anyway._

He _tolerated_ being shoved in a dingy basement on an old rackety desk in Kageyama’s house. He _tolerated_ his computer and video editing equipment that had crawled right out of the early 2000s. Answering the fan mail on the other hand made him want to slam his keyboard into the wall. 

_I tolerate my job._ Tsukishima took a deep breath and opened up the email. 

He heaved out a sigh of relief when he read the address and realized it wasn’t from sparkleunicorn@aol.com or something. That relief unfortunately short-lived when he realized it came from Brokuto@hotmail.com. _Bro_ kuto. Tsuksihima’s heart dropped:  
__

> _Hello KSS staff,_
> 
> _I’ve watched your videos and am a big fan. I believe my boyfriend’s house is haunted. The ghost has planted flowers and written hi on the bathroom mirror with toothpaste.  
>  He thinks the ghost needs to leave, but I need help convincing him we can coexist. _
> 
> _Thanks!_
> 
> _Bokuto Koutarou_

  
Tsukishima’s eyebrows crawled up toward his hairline. No poltergeist, ten year old daughter spewing bile, or grandmother speaking in tongues. Tsukishima typed out his response:  


> _Dear Mr. Bokuto,_
> 
> _Thank you for taking the time to reach out to us. I regret to inform you that we are unable to mediate any relationship issues.  
>  Best of luck with the ghost. _
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> __
> 
> Tsukishima Kei 
> 
> _KSS Head of Media_

  
“Hey, Tsukishima, what’s going on?” Hinata’s loud voice shouted in the sanctity of the small office. Tsukishima’s temple throbbed and he turned a grimace toward the man in question.

“Nothing,” Tsukishima replied through gritted teeth, “Just one new request.”

“Oh, cool!” Hinata had the audacity to come and _lean over his desk,_ “What about?” Tsukishima clicked the email browser closed before he could see anything. Tsukishima treasured the confused frown that settled on Hinata's face.

“A relationship being torn apart by a friendly ghost.”

“Oh,” Hinata nodded with a dumb little smile on his mouth, “Cool.” Tsukishima’s brain short-circuited. _Absolutely not_ cool _, outrageous and a complete waste of their time._ “I’ll ask Tobio about it, if it’s not too far away maybe we could stop by and investigate!”

Tsukishima resisted slamming his head against his keyboard.

* * *

Akaashi added a pinch of chili powder to the saucepan boiling on the stove. He lowered the temperature to a simmer and added in hint of more soy sauce. He went to the cabinet and pulled down two bowls. He frowned when he noticed his favorite mug up on the top of the fridge. 

He got up on his tip-toes and pawed at the ceramic in an effort to wiggle it down. _Wasn’t the point of living alone to avoid having family members putting all his shit on the highest surfaces possible?_

He let out a grunt, settling back on his heels. “Well, Casper, if you’d like to help out, here's your chance.” He stood there an embarrassingly long amount of time staring at the top of the fridge and the mug

Akaashi rolled his eyes and turned back to the ramen on the stove. 

“Smells good,” Bokuto flounced into the kitchen with a grin. He tried to sneak past Akaashi and swipe up a noddle. Akaashi smacked his hand away with a tsk of his tongue.

“Make yourself useful,” Akaashi tilted his head in the direction of the fridge, “I think one of the local kids has been feeding a stray cat that lives around here. There’s milk in the fridge.”

“What, you don’t want to give him a piece of tofu?” Bokuto laughed even as he headed to the fridge and pulled out the carton. “Why’s your mug up on the top of the fridge?”

“Bo,” Akaashi twisted to look at him with a deep frown, “I thought you put it there.” 

“Babe, I don’t know if I can even reach,” Bokuto popped up on his tip-toes, fingers scrambling to try and get a hold of the mug. His fingertips ended up knocking it further back. “Shit,” he mumbled and scratched the side of his neck. 

“Leave it for now,” Akaashi sighed. While he poured the stock into the two bowls Bokuto took another bowl filled with milk outside. When Bokuto came back in the smell of shallots and sesame greeted him. 

“So what’s this kitty cat look like?”

Akaashi shrugged up his shoulder, “I haven’t seen it yet.”

Bokuto came back up into his space in the kitchen and went to stand behind Akaashi. His hands closed on Akaashi’s hips, “So, If she’s a black cat, can we call her Kuro?” 

Akaashi leaned back against the warm weight of his chest and hummed low in his throat, “Very original.” Bokuto’s laugh came out muffled against the back of Akaashi’s neck and the tiny puffs of warm air left Akaashi shivering.

Akaashi shooed Bokuto away and pushed his bowl of ramen into his hands, “Eat.”

Bokuto saluted him with two fingers before he swiped up a pair of chopsticks and took a seat. In the silence of them eating, Bokuto cleared his throat. He had a guilty look about him with the corners of his mouth pulled down. “So, I gotta own up to something.”

Akaashi gestured for him to continue and took a large bite of egg and tofu so he couldn't say anything rude that would discourage Bokuto. Whatever he’d done, Akaashi would much rather be in the know. 

“I reached out to some paranormal guys,” Bokuto pointed to where the mug still sat on the top of the fridge, “You know, for the ghost.”

“When you say _paranormal guys,_ you don’t mean some frauds from Youtube, do you?”

“Hey!” Bokuto lurched forward, face opening with faked outrage that gave way to a bright smile, “Okay, yeah they could be.”

Akaashi groaned and tried to drown himself in his noodle bowl.

* * *

Akaashi had been in the process of reading over one of the submissions for the literary magazine he worked for, when he heard a knock at the door. Akaashi settled back on the couch, intending to ignore it when the pounding became more insistent. 

Akaashi put his laptop to the side and peeled himself off the sofa. On the front porch stood a very tall, very blonde gentleman. He wore a nice jacket and form fitting pants. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before purposefully rapping his knuckles once more.

Akaashi opened the door, “Can I help you?”

“Hello,” He had a taciturn expression with a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes, “My name is Tsukishima Kei, I spoke on the phone with Bokuto.” _Of course it was about Bo, it was always about Bo._

“He’s out right now,” Akaashi frowned, “I’m Akaashi Keiji, this is my house.” 

“You’re the boyfriend then,” Tsukishima noted with a quirk of his brow, “I’m with the The King of Spectral Sightings,” Akaashi couldn't miss the way he said the title with a bitter drawl and a smirk curled up on the edge of his mouth. “Bokuto offered to let me have a look at the property.” _Of course he did._

Akaashi held the door open, “You may as well come in.” 

Tsukishima entered and looked around. Akaashi wondered if he was some sort of psychic medium or something. Akaashi gestured loosely to the vicinity of the couch and chairs in the living room.

“One minute,” Akaashi said to Tsukishima before he flipped out his phone and texted Bokuto.  


> _  
> Your paranormal investigator showed up at the house... Conveniently, you’re not here  
>  _

Because he wanted to dig his claws in a little, he tacked on for good measure:  


> _  
> If you would’ve said he was a hot blonde I would’ve agreed a lot earlier._

_  
_  
Akaashi balanced his phone on his knee and turned his attention back to Tsukishima, “So, how’s this work?”

Tsukishima flipped out an actual notepad, “Describe your experiences for me.”

Akaashi rubbed his hands together and let out a scoff of breath, “A villager left milk on my porch for a cat I’ve never seen. Things move around the house, flowers have planted themselves out front, it’s written _hi_ to me.” 

“Nothing overtly threatening?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, “Only if you consider it puts my mug on the highest shelves.”

Tsukishima scribbled something down and pushed his glasses further up his nose. Akaashi glanced down at his phone and saw he’d missed three texts from Bokuto.  


> _Sorry, babe! I forgot that was today :(_

>   
>  _What do you mean he’s hot?_

> _Akkaaaassssshhhhiiiiiii  
>  _

  
Akaashi snapped his fingers. Tsukishima glanced up toward him abruptly, mouth parted in a tiny ‘o’ with a furrow between his brow. Akaashi took that moment to snap a picture of him. Tsukishima blinked once with obvious surprise.

“If you’re a serial killer, I figured I should at least get a picture of you downloaded to the cloud,” Akaashi explained while trying to discreetly send said picture to Bokuto. 

Tsukishima huffed out a noise that sounded dangerously close to a laugh and rolled his eyes, “Quite prudent of you.”

It’d barely been thirty seconds from him hitting send before Akaashi’s phone buzzed with Bokuto’s response:  
__  
Damn! He is hot  
  
“Do you want me to get you a drink or something?” Akaashi asked as he headed to the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water for himself and looked at Tsukishima expectantly. 

“No thank you,” Tsukishima shook his head and settled back in the chair. “I did some preliminary research on your house.” His expression kept guarded but Akaashi had an idea before he’d spoken. 

“No murder-suicides or mass graves?”

“Nothing,” Tsukishima agreed, he leaned forward and pulled off his glasses. “It was built in the 80s and has lived an uneventful life.” He rubbed between his eyes.

The corner of Akaashi’s mouth quirked up, “We could all be so lucky.” He twisted the cap off his water and took a drink. For a moment, they hung in silence. Although the house didn’t ever really quiet and the wood groaned in agreement that no, he'd never shut up.

“Listen, Akaashi, this isn’t just some stunt your boyfriend orchestrated, is it?” And before the words had even fully left Tsukishima’s mouth a pillow flew off the couch and hit him square in the jaw. 

Tsukishima lurched backward, fumbling to put his glass back on. Akaashi’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, “I wish.” 

“Ah,” Tsukishima clicked his tongue and turned his sharp glance around the room.

“So what do you do?” 

Tsukishima blinked once, very slowly and deliberately, “I conduct research on locations for Kageyama, I also edit most of the video and maintain our social media pages.” 

Akaashi's eyebrows furrowed, “So what's this Kageyama do then?”

“He's a figurehead,” Tsukishima said, so matter-of-fact and with such a decisive little sniffle that Akaashi wanted to laugh.

Akaashi just nodded and forced a tight-lipped smile on his mouth.

“Listen,” Tsukishima gathered up his stuff, “I can’t promise anything,” the rest went unsaid, _he’d try_ at the very least. His hand closed on the doorknob. 

Tsukishima's eyebrows furrowed as he twisted the knob. He put his shoulder into it but still the door refused to budge. 

“Here,” Akaashi brushed past him, hand resting on Tsukishima’s shoulder before he tried the door. _Completely stuck_. The ghost had apparently upped his game. “Maybe it likes you, Tsukishima.” 

Tsukishima’s nose wrinkled up. “I’d rather it didn't.” 

Akaashi shrugged up a shoulder, “I can open up a window for you to crawl out _or_ there's a documentary about sharks I've been wanting to watch.”

“I'd prefer the sharks to getting stuck in your window,” Tsukishima huffed out a haughtily little breath and headed into the kitchen. Akaashi nodded and followed after him. Tsukishima pointed to the mug still trapped up on top of the fridge, “So that was the ghost then?”

“Who else would it be?” Akaashi sighed.

Tsukishima leaned up, long fingers stretching out and pulling the mug down off the fridge. He handed it over to Akaashi. “I assume the offer for a drink still stands?”

Akaashi put his mug back into the proper cabinet, “Help yourself.”

Tsukishima swiped up a strawberry soda from the fridge and made his way back into the living room. Akaashi fought not to stare at his trim hips in those tight slacks. _At least the ghost had good taste in men._

* * *

Bokuto pulled into Akaashi's driveway right on the cusp of dusk. He stretched out his arms, joints popping, and he'd really underestimated the hour long commute back and forth into the city. He rubbed the back of his neck, _at least most of his grad school shit was online._

Bokuto stumbled from the car on stiff legs and tried to dodge the veritable landmine of potholes and burrs. He adjusted the plastic bags in his arms to try and get his house key out of his back pocket. Out the corner of his eye, he saw a dark blurr leaping from the veranda into the heavy weeds. 

He whistled low under his breath, “Hey, kitty, that you?” 

A loud yowl greeted him and the poofiest, largest, black cat he'd ever seen came swaggering out of the brush as though she owned the place. Bokuto let out a little laugh and dropped to his knees, “Hey there, Buddy!” He gave a pat to his lap and the cat came closer.

Its fluffy tail brushed up along his leg before it clambered up into his lap. It purred so loud Bokuto could swear he felt it reverberating in his bones. He gave a tentative little scratch behind its ears, “You're so cute!” A tuft of the cat’s fur stuck up on her head which looked an awful lot like the comb on a cockerel's head. “Rooster hair,” Bokuto teased with puckered lips.

The cat pawed at the bags that sat next to him, her apparently _very sharp claws_ splitting open the plastic. “Easy there, Kuro,” Bokuto gave another pat to her head. He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the mini muffins. 

Bokuto's voice dropped low and conspiratory, “I'm pretty sure muffins aren't good for cats, but this is our secret, okay?” Kuro meowed in agreement, which earned her one of the muffins. After she got her prize, the cat was all too happy to hop off Bokuto's lap and go sauntering back away into the weeds.

Bokuto laughed and stood up to brush the loose dirt off his pant legs. He picked up his groceries and headed up onto the veranda. 

He fiddled with his keys, nearly dropping them, before shoving them into the doorknob. “Hey, Babe! I finally saw the cat that's--”

Bokuto’s words came to a crashing halt as he took in the scene before him. Akaashi sat on the couch next to _the very hot blonde investigator_ and it looked like they were watching TV together. Something about true crime if the grisly staged murder scene and the deep voiced narrator served as any indication. When he entered the room, two pairs of eyes fell on him. “Hey,” Akaashi finally said. Bokuto just laughed. 

“Do you think the ghost _likes_ murder-y shows?” Bokuto asked as he walked into the kitchen, “What if that brings back bad memories for it or something?” Akaashi got up off the couch and followed after him, no doubt terrified what Bokuto would get up to in his kitchen. 

“I don't think the ghost was murdered here,” the paranormal investigator piped up-- _gah, Bokuto couldn't quite remember his name--_

“Really?” Bokuto said with a tip of his head before a big grin broke out across his face. He nodded along, “Well _maybe_ it just likes Akaashi.” 

Akaashi gave a halfhearted shove to his chest, “Shut up, Bo.” He took the bags right out of Bokuto’s hands and got to putting them up himself. 

Bokuto leaned toward the investigator, "Okay, but really, Specs: what's your theory about the ghost?"

“My name is Tsukishima,” He corrected with a sigh and a cute little wrinkle of his nose. “I'm sure it'll come as a great disappointment," The way he said it made it sound like he didn't actually care one way or another, "I have no idea why it's here _or_ what it is.”

“You saying it's not necessarily a ghost? Like not a dead person?” Bokuto felt the frown tugging on the edge of his mouth. _If it didn't have unfinished business tied to the house or whatever, surely it could hang out somewhere cooler than here._ Bokuto would've picked an airport or something-- many better opportunities to people watch.

Tsukishima shrugged up a shoulder-- _he looked bored, and Bokuto couldn't imagine being bored with a cool job like his_ \-- “It could be something else entirely, yes,” He adjusted his glasses pointedly, “At least _you_ convinced it to open the door.”

“What?”

“Our _friendly ghost_ ,” Akaashi bit out the words with a glare directed toward Bokuto, “Locked Tsukishima in.”

Bokuto barked out a laugh-- which earned him a very unimpressed glare from two different people, but he fancied he could hear the house giggling along with him. “Well shit.”

“I have a spare room if you want to stay the night,” Akaashi offered up with a glance toward Tsukishima. _Bokuto had to agree, it would be treacherously dark going down the long, curving road_. The blonde folded his arms across his chest and looked awfully unimpressed.

Still, he nodded, “I’d appreciate it.” 

Bokuto scratched at the back of his neck, “You know, I don't remember seeing another car when I pulled in.” 

Tsukishima's eyebrows knit together, “What?” But Bokuto had already fluttered past him to peer outside the window. Sure enough, a light grey car sat parked right in front of his. 

He scratched at his cheek, _how hadn't he noticed it before?_ His eyes must’ve just been tired from the long drive in. “Well, at least I didn't rear end you.” 

“Very reassuring, Bo,” Akaashi called as he started pulling down a skillet for dinner. 

Bokuto grinned and called back: “Well, I _didn't_.” Akaashi's only response came as a loud sigh.

* * *

Curled up in bed together, Akaashi had been right on the edge of falling asleep when Bokuto cleared his throat. 

“So what was it like hanging out with the sexy blonde all day?” Bokuto asked with a tone of voice that could _almost_ pass for a whisper. Akaashi gave a soft smack to his arm. 

“Quiet,” Akaashi shushed him with a _proper_ whisper. Now awake, he propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over Bokuto. “He has nice legs.”

“All three miles worth, I noticed,” Bokuto agreed with a wide grin breaking out across his mouth. Akaashi stifled an amused sound and gathered in closer. 

Akaashi pressed his lips against Bokuto's--languid and slow. He tasted saccharine and warm like the wine they'd shared after dinner. “Pretty eyes too,” Akaashi mumbled into his mouth. 

Bokuto groaned with agreement and one of his hands came up to palm against Akaashi's ass, “Oh yeah?” He encouraged Akaashi further on top of him, one of his legs slipping between his thighs. 

Akaashi hummed and peppered a series of kisses down along his neck to his collarbone. Akaashi gave a little nip to his skin which had Bokuto shivering. _“Yes,”_ Akaashi breathed out a plume of warmth, “He’s especially cute when he tries not to smile.”

Bokuto raised an eyebrow, “Sounds like someone else I know.” Akaashi leaned back up toward him and stole another kiss. Bokuto's mouth felt like a fire, all burning humming. Akaashi wanted to melt into cinders with him. 

His hips pressed down and had Bokuto's canting up to meet him. Akaashi's moan got lost in between their mouths. He tangled one of his hands up in his ridiculous hair. 

Bokuto pulled on the waistband of Akaashi's boxer-briefs, which had the elastic digging into the sensitive skin of his hip. Bokuto snapped the elastic so Akaashi tugged on his hair in retaliation.

He could feel Bokuto's grinning mouth against his, and settled for kissing all the air out of him so he couldn't laugh. Heat pooled low in his gut. 

Akaashi settled back on his haunches and hooked his fingers into his underwear, “ _You_ have to be quiet.”

“No problem,” Bokuto chirped and held up two crossed fingers, “Cross my heart.” 

Akaashi sighed but slipped his underwear down all the same.

* * *

Tsukishima stared up at the ceiling. He could hear a clock ticking loudly on the wall. He rubbed his temples and breathed deeply through his nose. 

He could hear a bed creaking next door-- _headboard bumping against the wall, mattress groaning, and sheets rustling._ Tsukishima squinted harder at the ceiling. 

For a house that hadn't quieted a moment since he'd stepped inside, it had certainly decided to shut up now. Tsukishima’s eyes drifted close, mouth twisting up into a line-- he could just picture them: _Akaashi's dark and heady eyes, Bokuto's sweat-mussed hair clinging to his forehead_. He stifled a groan against his pinched lips. 

His hands twisted up in the blankets of his futon. _Get real, Tsukishima, they're together. Together. As in the two of them and no one else_. Tsukishima huffed out a sigh: Why couldn't they have been two decidedly unattractive middle-aged men? 

He dug out his headphones from his bag and hastily threw them on. With his makeshift earmuffs blessed silence finally greeted him. Tsukishima hunkered back down on the futon and crossed his arms across his chest. 

He squeezed his eyes closed and imagined he was out on a canoe under a midnight sky. 

Instead he dreamt of strong arms, sticky skin and warm mouths. _Of Akaashi and Bokuto and something dark, dangerous-- a thought that flittered past him like hundreds of sand grains through his fingers_. He woke up at midnight with a moan bubbling up his throat. 

Tsukishima twisted onto his side and shoved his head under the pillow.

* * *

Akaashi breathed out a soft sigh. His fingertips dug into his scalp as he rinsed the soapy suds out of his hair. He heard the shower curtain rustle and felt a warm body press up against his back. 

He _almost_ smiled when a hand covered his eyes and a soft mouth pressed a kiss to his nape. 

“You should've started with good morning,” Akaashi sighed and melted back into the solid chest. The tips of wet hair tickled down his back as the mouth traced a pattern along his spine. Akaashi smiled, something small that he kept hidden to himself. 

When Bokuto pulled away, Akaashi spun around to face him. Akaashi frowned as he took in the bare expanse of white tile being buffeted by the shower spray.

He turned off the shower and toweled off his hair. He looked to the fogged up mirror and saw the words _good morning_ had been traced through the steam. He pressed his palm to the mirror gingerly. For a moment, the glass felt like a warm hand.

Akaashi recoiled sharply and left the bathroom without another look back. 

_This house would drive him positively mad if he let it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should you feel I missed any tags, you're welcome to comment and let me know


	2. The Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima, Bokuto, and Akaashi investigate the _mystery cat_ , Kuro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate the comments/kudos on chapter 1!

Tsukishima cradled a mug of earl grey tea in between his palms. He sat at the kitchen island watching Bokuto throw a whole mess of things together in a bowl. 

Tsukishima didn't feel much better than the goopy mess. When he checked his appearance that morning the sight of eyes so purpled with bags they looked bruised greeted him. Try as he might, he’d been unable to escape dreams about his _doting_ hosts. _Very appealing indeed_ , his face twisted into a sneer.

Still, Tsukishima figured there were worse ways to start a saturday morning than by having ~~an attractive~~ a _very much taken_ man cook for you. 

Tsukishima fiddled with the tea bag in his cup. The mug said ' _World's Best Boyfriend_ ' on it, and he wondered if Akaashi or Bokuto had gifted it to the other. _It seemed like a Bokuto gift._ “You and Akaashi both mentioned a cat,” He bobbed the bag up and down and watched the dark color seep out into the hot water. 

“Kuro,” Bokuto whisked the mixture of eggs, mirin, sugar and broth together.

"A black cat then?”

“Yeah, she's real big and fluffy.” The skillet sizzled as Bokuto poured a thin layer of the mixture inside.

Tsukishima lifted the cup up and carefully blew on the tea. “Is it a regular cat?” He took a sip and fought not to cringe when hot liquid scalded the inside of his cheek. He stifled a cough and forced it down anyway. The floral taste of bergamot flooded his mouth.

“‘Course she's a _regular_ cat,” Bokuto pointed the wooden spoon toward him with a big grin, “Well, as normal as any cat I guess.” A dollop of the egg fell from the spoon onto the floor.

Tsukishima shot a deversive stare to the little yellow blemish. Bokuto just grinned and casually plopped a dishrag down on top of it. Tsukishima cleared his throat and set his cup down, “With a leading statement like _that_ I presume you're going to clarify?”

“Well, she really likes muffins.”

Tsukishima frowned at him. He blinked once before he said: “You fed the cat muffins?”

Bokuto threw his head back and laughed, “I sure did!” He waved off the apparent concern with a waggle of his spoon before he turned back to the stovetop. He carefully folded the egg into a delicate roll before he poured in more of the soupy mixture. 

Akaashi finally entered the kitchen, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. His eyes narrowed when he noticed the dishrag thrown haphazardly to the ground, “Making a mess, Koutarou?”

“Only a little,” Bokuto promised with a wry grin over his shoulder.

“It _is_ what you do best,”Akaashi agreed with a saucy little upturn of his mouth. He took a seat next to Tsukishima and the air smelt warm: like citrus and sandalwood. Tsukishima fought the urge to further inhale the scent of his shampoo by taking a large gulp of tea. 

Bokuto twisted around, his voice came out a bit high and nasally: “Hey! C’mon, babe.” Akaashi just stared back with deadeye, unflinching grace. 

Tsukishima’s phone buzzed in the pocket of his rumpled slacks. Tsukishima jolted and _nearly_ dumped hot tea all over his thigh. He dug phone out and sighed when he realized the message came from Hinata:

> _  
> Hi, Tsukishima! I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Call me later about this troublemaking ghost, okay? Talk soon!  
>  _

Tsukishima rubbed at his temples and felt a headache gnawing at the center of his forehead. He quickly typed out:

> _  
> Let Kageyama know I’m going to stay in Umioka another day to find out what it is.  
>  _

He set the phone down and the instant he did, Hinata’s response pinged once and then twice:

> _  
> Wow, you sure responded fast!  
>  _

> _  
> It's not a ghost??? Is it a demon or something???  
>  _

Tsukishima contemplated banging his forehead on the table, but the sweet smelling egg roll set down in front of him halted those thoughts. From the corner of his eye he watched Akaashi wad one of the fabric placemats into a ball.

Bokuto ignored his boyfriend to give Tsukishima a big wink and pucker up his mouth: “Bon appetit!” 

Tsukishima watched the balled up placemat smack against Bokuto's shoulder. Bokuto spun and gaped at Akaashi, who only shrugged, “It's the ghost.” He took a pointed bite of his omelet and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“You're terrible, Babe,” Bokuto shook his head. Tsukishima hid his expression behind his hand and fought not to smile. _Tsukishima had to wonder what the spirit-ghost-house thought of all this anyway-- he imagined it'd be tickled pink and that had him letting out a sigh._ This damn house felt like a rat chewing on the inside of his mind.

* * *

Bokuto parked the car and gestured to the orange and green neon sign overhead: “Behold: the only shitty little convenience store in all of Umioka.” 

Akaashi leaned over the center console from his place in the back seat and gave a shove to his shoulder. He glanced over to Tsukishima and said: “There's also a larger supermarket further on in town.” Akaashi gave a flick to Bokuto's earlobe. 

“This will be fine,” Tsukishima replied and slipped out of the car. 

Bokuto leaned back toward Akaashi and mumbled, _“So hot._ ” Akaashi just rolled his eyes and left to follow Tsukishima inside. 

Tsukishima picked out a box of gloriously red strawberries. Akaashi looked over the bags of hot chips and contemplated grabbing one for Bokuto before he thought better of it: _for someone who claimed to love hot food, he certainly whined when his mouth burned._

Tsukishima picked up a package of miniature shortcakes, he reached for the whip cream but Akaashi stopped him: “I have some back at the house.” 

“You're missing the point of my culinary independence,” Tsukishima replied with a wry brow cocked up but left the can all the same. He gestured to the rest of the aisle of sweet baked goods, “What's your guilty pleasure?”

“Red bean pastries,” Akaashi remarked with a tip of his head toward the package in question.

Tsukishima snatched it up and nodded once, purposefully: “My treat then.” 

Akaashi’s mouth quivered up into a small smile as he followed Tsukishima to the checkout. 

Tsukishima turned a polite smile to the older man behind the register: “My friend recently moved into a house nearby, and we've seen a large black cat around, do you know who its owner is?” 

The worker, Asahi-- if his name tag was any indication-- nodded: “Sure, he,” Akaashi shared a look with Tsukishima-- _hadn't Bo been certain the cat was a girl?_ \--“Wanders all over town when he wants food.” 

“He’s a stray?” Akaashi tipped his head to the side. He frowned while Tsukishima went ahead and paid for the few groceries.

Asahi shook his head, “Not exactly-- he's like everyone's cat.” He gestured to the white fortune cat figurine on the counter next to him, “A good luck charm.” 

Tsukishima gathered up his bags, and shot a tight-lipped smile over his shoulder, “We’ll try not to bother him too much then.” 

Akaashi climbed back into the car with a put upon sigh, “You'll be happy to know _Kuro_ is actually a boy.” Bokuto twisted to face him with a surprised expression. 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima replied as he slid into the passenger seat, “ _Everyone's cat apparently.”_

Bokuto let out a laugh, “See, I told you she-- er, _he_ wasn't a demon!”’ 

On the drive back up the hillside, a light drizzle of rain started. The earth grew soft and the car windows fogged up. Bokuto complained under his breath as he cranked down a window.

When they arrived back at the house, the cat in question sat on the veranda away from the rain and meowed loudly at them. Akaashi knelt down next to him and gave a tiny scratch behind his ears. He let out a purr and brushed his rumbling body against his leg. 

Akaashi hooked his hands under his front arms and lifted him up. The little beast gave him a very unimpressed look but stayed still in his grasp. Akaashi's eyebrows furrowed, “It turns out _she_ is indeed a he.” Akaashi sat the cat back down and stroked one of his ears between two fingers. The cat’s head rubbed up against his knee. 

Bokuto grinned, “Well okay then, little man!” 

Tsukishima crouched down next to Kuro and held out a hand for the cat to sniff, “He's well groomed for a stray.” The cat batted its paw against him. Tsukishima tried to pet him, but the cat backed up and swaggered off the porch into the wet brush.

“He's such a sweet little guy!” Bokuto mumbled baby-talk toward the cat. Kuro paused and meowed loudly toward him, tail swishing before he hopped off behind a large tree. 

“If he's living outside, you'd expect his hair to be matted with burrs.” Tsukishima held up his hand where the cat had touched and then gestured to where their three footprints tracked through the damp ground, “Or that his paws would be muddy.”

Bokuto rolled his eyes, “C’mon, he's just a clean cat.”

Tsukishima spared a look to where the cat had disappeared before he followed Bokuto and Akaashi into the house.

* * *

Tsukishima set up the video camera in the corner of the living room so he could see partially into the kitchen. He rubbed his hands on his pant legs before he took a look at the screen. He tsked his tongue but gave up trying to get a better angle. _There's only so much to be done with a single camera._

“How's it going, Specs?” Bokuto asked as he flounced into the room and plopped himself down onto the loveseat. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and Tsukishima wondered how Akaashi hadn't killed him yet. 

Tsukishima hit the record button, checked the power supply, and said: “We should be good to go.” 

“Okay, ghosty, now's your chance to show the whole world what you can do,” Bokuto announced with a gesture toward the camera. The ghost, being ever spiteful, did absolutely nothing.

Akaashi let out a sigh and folded himself into the chair across from Bokuto, “Perhaps he has performance anxiety.” 

“You really think so?” Bokuto's eyes widened and he leaned toward Akaashi.

“No,” Akaashi settled back in his chair with a dismissive shrug. Bokuto frowned and crossed his arms across his chest. Tsukishima sat down next to him, making sure he kept a respectable distance between them. He briefly contemplated creating a throw pillow barricade to stop himself from creeping closer. Bokuto though sidled up near enough Tsukishima could feel the heat of his thigh. 

He threw an arm across the couch with casual ease _that did not make Tsukishima want to swoon._ Obviously. Tsukishima swallowed dryly and folded his hands together on his lap. 

“For episodes of KSS, we normally like to get an idea what's happening at a property prior to shooting.”

Akaashi raised a brow, “So it can be staged?” Bokuto shot him a scandalized expression, but Tsukishima waved off the apparent concern.

“Sometimes,” Tsukishima agreed, “But your house is one of the most active locations I've been to-- if the entity isn't camera shy, I doubt we'd have a shortage of footage to pull from.” 

“Lucky me.”

“Not particularly,” Tsukishima adjusted his glasses, “This could be a ghost or a poltergeist.” Akaashi's face steeled against the inevitable conclusion that would fall from Tsukishima's mouth. Tsukishima shook his head, “I don't necessarily believe it's demonic, but that's still a possibility.” 

“So what is it?” 

Tsukishima had been about to tell them he planned to do some more research when a knock sounded against the door. Akaashi frowned but got up to go check. He opened the door to reveal one of the most good looking men Tsukishima had ever laid eyes on-- _an amazing feat considering he was sitting next to two of the others._

With dark hair swooped up off his forehead and a low cat-got-canary smile settled on his mouth, he looked like a vision. Tsukishima eyed him warily. 

“Hi,” The man smiled wider and held up his hand in a wave, “I live a bit further up the mountain than you.” He pointed loosely in a direction outside. He scratched at the back of his neck, “My cat ran off.”

“Kuro?” Akaashi asked with a deadpan tip of his head. The man laughed and shook his head.

“He's black and fluffy,” He gestured to his hair with a flicker of his hand, “We have the same hairstyle honestly.”

“Like a rooster,” Bokuto piped up from his perch on the couch. The man in question grinned back at him with so many teeth he resembled a shark. 

“We saw him earlier,” Akaashi replied, “if he comes back, I can call you or--” Before he could finish a loud crack of thunder sounded outside and the rain started to come down in a heavy downpour.

The handsome stranger bundled himself tighter in his thin jacket, “Yeah, that'd be great.” 

“Do you want to come inside?” Akaashi blurted out and awkwardly held the door open wider. The stranger blinked but then looked over his shoulder to where the rain had turned the weedy brush into a swamp. 

“Yeah, okay,” He nodded and stepped inside. He peeled off his mud caked boots and wet coat. “I'm Kuroo by the way.”

“Akaashi Keiji,” Akaashi replied, he tipped his chin toward Bokuto, “That’s my boyfriend, Bokuto, and next to him is Tsukishima.”

Kuroo shot a little look at the tripod in the corner, “What's with the camera?”

“My house is haunted.” 

Kuroo belted out a laugh and crouched down in front of the camera screen, “You think it's going to let itself get caught on video?” He waggled his fingers in front of it. 

“Ghosts aren't terribly intelligent,” Tsukishima offered up with a pointed stare. 

Kuroo tucked his hands into his pants pockets and smiled as he straightened back up, “You sure about that?” The vein in Tsukishima’s forehead twitched.

Bokuto got up and peered out the window at the pouring rain, “Do you think your cat is alright?” Tsukishima tried not to mourn the warmth against his leg. He pointedly scooted further away from where Bokuto had been on principle. 

Kuroo waved off the concern, “Probably, I'd stopped in town before coming here, so he may have already made it home.”

They fell into exchanging amicable niceties about their day-to-day lives while it continued to rain outside-- 

“I teach English,” Bokuto explained, “And Japanese, sometimes.” A wide grin split across his face, “I have a talented tongue.” 

Kuroo laughed, “I’ll bet you do!” Which had Bokuto all but seeing stars. Tsukishima looked over at Akaashi as discreetly as he could: his blank face gave nothing away about how the blatant flirtation had him feeling. 

“Don't inflate his ego too much, Kuroo,” Akaashi offered up, “Otherwise his head won't fit through doorways.” 

Bokuto squawked like a bird: “Hey!” 

“What about you, Tsukki?” Kuroo turned a needle-eyed stare toward him, “You've got that whole sexy buttoned up thing going on.” 

Tsukishima frowned at him, “I told you before, I work with a paranormal investigation team.” 

“Cool,” Kuroo leaned forward in his chair and steepled his hands under his chin, “You ever had to do an exorcism?” 

“No,” Tsukishima narrowed his eyes.

“Banish spirits from a house?”

“There's a first time for everything.” 

Kuroo grinned at watching Tsukishima rankle. “So what do you actually do then?” 

Tsukishima further bristled and lifted up his chin, _“If_ Akaashi lets you hang around, maybe you'll find out.” Kuroo only smiled wider at the promise. 

After an hour of watching National Geographic and drinking cheap beer, Kuroo glanced out the window. The rain had slowed back to a grey drizzle. “I should head out now.” He got up to his feet and stretched his arms up high. The thin cotton of his shirt rode up and _goddamn, his stomach looked toned._

“It was nice meeting you,” Bokuto offered as Akaashi walked Kuroo to the door. Kuroo leaned close to Akaashi and grabbed his wrist. He dug through his pocket. 

“If you see my cat,” He popped a cap off a felt-tipped marker and scrawled his phone number out against Akaashi's hand. Akaashi watched him write with a dark, hooded gaze. 

Kuroo capped the marker and breezed out the door without another word. The room felt more like a hurricane had moved through than a single man. 

Bokuto latched onto Akaashi's hand and pulled him down onto the couch with him. He whipped out his phone and started tapping away. “Cool guy.”

“Whatever you say, Bo,” Akaashi took a sip of lukewarm beer.

Tsukishima looked out the window and wondered, _how far away did he live if he could walk home?_ He tried to remember the property map he'd looked at for the area, but couldn't quite recall.

* * *

“I appreciate you allowing me to stay another night,” Tsukishima leaned across the table. He cut his strawberry shortcake into neat little cubes.

“You're here for my ghost,” Akaashi replied. Tsukishima ducked his head. The dusty light of evening from the windows highlighted the slope of his cheekbones and pronounced his cupid’s bow above his lip. Akaashi thought it unfair for him to look so handsome. “Anyway, Bo is more of a bother,” Akaashi gestured with a thumb over his shoulder to where the man in question bustled about the kitchen.

The prongs of Tsukishima's fork skewered into the moist cake and strawberry. “ _Still.”_

He looked up and his eyes locked with Akaashi's, “Then you’re welcome.” _Any time you should want_ , but Akaashi couldn't quite get his mouth to form the words. 

Tsukishima took a bite of the dessert and a tiny dollop of whip cream caught on his mouth. _A cliche, wasn't it?_ But Akaashi couldn't resist leaning close. Akaashi swiped his thumb across the top of his lip and caught the whipped cream. Tsukishima's mouth parted into a little ‘o’. 

Akaashi kept his face still and hoped he didn't betray his own interest. Luckily, Bokuto clomping in like a Clydesdale broke them apart. 

Bokuto fell into the chair next to Tsukishima and sprawled his arm out across his shoulders _just like that._ Akaashi wanted to scoff at the gall of him. “You'll scare him away, Bo.”

“Huh?” Bokuto's eyebrows pinched together.

“It's a miracle you haven't out-spooked the ghost,” Akaashi continued. He stood up from the table and looked to the side. He swiped his tongue along the roof of his mouth and could still taste the sweetness from the red bean pastries. It only just masked the aftertaste of Bokuto's cheap beer, which lingered like the morning after a bad night-- he felt the buzz of alcohol keenly curling along his senses. 

Tsukishima caught his attention when his fingers closed _gently, loosely_ , against Akaashi's sleeve. He tipped his head back, “I'm much harder to scare than that, Akaashi.” 

“I'd hope so, if you wanna try and evict our ghost,” Bokuto said with a grin. Akaashi rolled his eyes at him but that just made Bokuto shrug up a shoulder. 

“I'm going to bed,”Akaashi shook his head, he tried not to sound too hopeful: “I’ll see you in the morning, Tsukishima?” 

He didn't miss how his hand withdrew and he stiffly nodded, “Yes, goodnight.” Akaashi tried to remind himself that propositioning _someone you'd hired to get rid of your ghost_ for a threeway with your boyfriend while drunk wasn't a good idea.

He stared at himself in his bathroom mirror and splashed cold water on his face.

* * *

Bokuto cursed under his breath, hand plastered against the wall as he made his way through the dark. 

He padded down the stairs and tried to avoid any creaky spots. _Hard with such a noisy house._ Luckily his footsteps sounded muffled and he doubted his socks had much to do with it. He gave a pat the banister, “Thanks, bro,” he mumbled to the ghost-- his accomplice, rather. 

Bokuto crept into the kitchen and went to the fridge. He pulled out a carton of milk before he selected his tooth-rotting sweet, Americanized as hell cereal. 

Bokuto took his cereal bowl outside and made himself comfortable on the edge of the veranda. The sun hadn't quite risen and the air still felt damp from the rain the night before. 

He looked out toward the plants of Akaashi's garden. “You out here?” Nine azaleas all rustled their leaves in quiet acknowledgement. 

Bokuto pointed a spoon toward them, “I’m going to feel like a real idiot talking to myself if you aren't.” He took a big bite of his cereal and crunched pointedly. From the opened door a gust of air chilled his back. 

Bokuto yelped and turned an accusing glare onto the house, _“Really?”_ He smoothed out his rumpled hair and dropped his voice to a whisper, “Sometimes I can't sleep, man-- that's why I come out here.” 

He wondered if he should explain how his mind spiraled into a whirlpool when he laid still and sometimes he really thought he'd drown. Bokuto's shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. His eyes burned, “It sucks.” 

A pair of arms draped themselves around his shoulders. Bokuto lurched forward and shot a look back at the empty veranda. What felt like a hand gave a small pat to his shoulder. Bokuto let out a dry laugh and shook his head, “That's spooky, bro.”

Still, Bokuto settled back into the invisible embrace and ate his cereal. 

* * *

_Just focus on The Work_ became Tsukishima's mental mantra. Truly thinking of it as _The Work_ as opposed to _job he barely tolerated_ hadn't been a particularly motivating change. Still, after two nights being riddled with sex dreams for two very _off limits clients and their attractive neighbor_ , he worried his professionalism would suffer. He clutched his camera and tried to focus.

Tsukishima grimaced at the recording: black spots filled random parts of the screen and Kuroo looked like he'd soaked in a black mist. Akaashi gathered in close and hummed under his breath when he noticed the video’s quality. _Or the astounding lack thereof._

Bokuto didn't pay them any attention and went over to the window. He let out an excited yip, “The cat’s back!” He gestured to where the dark fluff ball trotted across the veranda. “We should call Kuroo--”

Tsukishima rewound the tape and still, Kuroo’s image looked distorted and grainy in every frame. Almost like it had been taken underwater with a disposable Kodak camera. He frowned and rubbed a hand against his chin. 

Akaashi frowned right back at him, “That's weird, isn't it?”

“It could be the entity is interfering with Kuroo's image,” Tsukishima offered up. 

Bokuto shot a panicked look in their direction, “Guys, how common is it for cats to have two tails?” 

Tsukishima's eyes narrowed as he got up to his feet, “What?” By the time he and Akaashi got to the window, the cat had already disappeared.


	3. The Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter-- my HTML got screwed up and it took forever to fix.

Tsukishima had the camera hooked up to the computer when he waved Hinata and Kageyama closer. Hinata's teeth pulled on his lower lip, _like he had no idea what Tsukishima could possibly be doing, and it sure seemed like the blonde had lost his mind._ That reaction from anyone else, Tsukishima would deem fair: after all he'd returned from Umioka with blood shot bag-rimmed eyes and a day's worth of stubble splattered across his jaw. In this case however, from _Hinata_ , it made him want to scream. 

“Look,” Tsukishima pointedly rewound the video to when Kuroo had shown up at the house. He made sure his voice dipped down low like how he'd talk to a dull toddler.

Hinata got up into his space and frowned. He leaned over the desk, blocking Tsukishima's view of his screen. Hinata drew back finally and scratched at his cheek, “I don't get it.” 

Tsukishima rewound the video again, "Look at the dark haired man, there's black spots--" the words died on his tongue and his jaw dropped when he _looked_. _Where at the house there had been interference with Kuroo, now he wasn't there at all._ It looked like Tsukishima, Akaashi, and Bokuto were talking amongst themselves. 

Kageyama frowned, “I don't see it, Tsukishima.” Hinata pointed to where Akaashi sat on screen, as though _he_ was the dark haired man in question: _and he looked totally normal, right?_

"No," Tsukishima felt too tired to muster up the energy to sound anything other than mildly annoyed,"Someone else was in the room with us.”

Hinata scratched his cheek again: “The ghost?”

“No,” Tsukishima fast-forwarded the video and let out a sharp exhale when he realized the angle hadn't captured the _surely invisible man_ writing on Akaashi's arm. “When I checked the footage at the house he looked distorted, but now he's disappeared.” 

“It looks like the three of you are just talking,” Hinata pointed out unhelpfully. Tsukishima's forehead throbbed. 

“So who was he?”

“One of their neighbors.” 

Hinata hummed, “Well, we could always interview him and have him vouch he was there in the room, right?” 

“That seems staged and clique,” Tsukishima argued-- _and nowhere near as titillating as a coffee mug moving by itself_. He exhaled and waved a hand, “It’s whatever you two want to do.” 

Hinata tapped his foot on the floor and hummed. “Interesting story though: lovers torn apart by their housemate ghost, a haunted cat and a mysterious neighbor,” Hinata continued.

Tsukishima shook his head, “Don't use their relationship as click bait.”

“That would be the entire point of filming there,” Kageyama spoke up with a confused glance in his direction. Tsukishima contemplated melting into the floor.

Instead, he stood up and stared down his nose at them. “I'll see if I can go back and collect interviews from the couple and their neighbor. If you can convince Kenma to part with more of the cameras, I'll set them up in different parts of the house--” 

Hinata stopped him with a bubbly little laugh and a raised hand: “ _You'll_ go? I've never heard you volunteer to do interviews before!” 

“Normally it's just talking through an earpiece or scouting locations,” Kageyama agreed unhelpfully with a low drawl.

Tsukishima's eye twitched: “Consider this my branching out.”

Hinata laughing at him when he stomped off didn't help matters any.

* * *

Bokuto woke up before sunrise to the shrill squeal of his alarm. In his surprise he ended up smacking his phone and sent it careening across the room. He'd slept on the couch to avoid waking Akaashi up when he left, but now he worried he'd end up getting woken anyway. Bokuto frowned with blurred vision and gave a sharp pinch to his arm. _Which did nothing._

Bokuto yawned and forced himself to fall off the couch in search of his phone that continued to steadily squeal. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, “it's too early for this.” His voice came out like a desperately sad moan.

He felt a thump on his chest. Bokuto gagged, the wind knocked out of him, and stared at his stomach. There his blessedly silent phone sat.

Bokuto brightened up and grinned at the room, “Thanks, man!” He crawled up to his feet and stretched his arms up. “Don't miss me too much.” 

The house groaned in protest and Bokuto just laughed, “Yeah, whatever, you're not fooling me.” He gathered up his bag and headed outside. 

Before he left he whispered, “Keep an eye on Keiji, okay?” His voice quivered and he hoped the ghost hadn't noticed. _Real classy, Bo, getting all teary-eyed over leaving Keiji._

Bokuto let out a yelp when a pair of arms closed around his middle from behind him. He spun around and the arms disappeared. _No one stood behind him_. Bokuto jabbed a finger against the doorframe, “You've gotten awfully comfortable there, mister.” Bokuto could just imagine his ghost giving a little laugh, the sound bubbly up from his throat.

He jumped off the veranda with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. A voice snickered in the back of his mind, _It's just a house, Bo._ The words felt like termites boring through his body. Like he'd been infested. Bokuto shook his head and thought as aggressively as he could, _Yes, but it's_ my _house._ Bokuto laughed when he imagined Akaashi's dry stare and pointed: _my house actually_. Bokuto would tell him that didn't make a difference anyway. They'd shared basically everything since the 3rd grade after all.

* * *

Akaashi breathed out through his nose and stared out the window. With Bokuto staying with his parents in the city while he attended classes the next three days-- _and without the excitement from Tsukishima and their mysterious neighbor_ \-- the house seemed lonelier than it had the week prior. Akaashi drummed his fingers against the couch arm. Even the ghost had been quiet.

He flipped on a documentary about birds of prey and couldn't help but smile when the channel changed to something about sharks instead. He couldn't muster up the energy to be surprised either.

He shook his head, “ _Fine _, but afterward it's my choice.” The TV hummed and crackled with what Akaashi hoped to be acknowledgement.__

_Akaashi settled back against the couch and hardly realized when his eyes slipped close._

He felt a mouth sliding against his jaw, lips soft and warm. He smiled and tangled his hand up in soft hair. Akaashi tipped his head back, “You ruined my nap.” He wondered if he should be worried, but the presence felt familiar-- like a warm oven or the smell of candied apples. 

An answering hum vibrated against his throat. Like this, he could feel the weight of a body, could feel the thump of a heart and the warmth of skin. So Akaashi kept his eyes closed for fear of what _he wouldn't see._

A set of teeth gave a small nip to the crook of his neck. “Would you rather be called something other than Casper?” If he had a preference, he gave no answer, just pressed his mouth against Akaashi's.

He tasted like cinnamon and clove, masking something acrid that lingered in the corners of his mouth. He felt like a burning hot live wire. Akaashi sunk into the contact. His hands pulled on thick hair and gripped broad shoulders. 

__Akaashi’s nose twitched and he could just barely smell charcoal and sulphur. A hand unbuttoned his jeans and pulled on his fly. Akaashi burrowed his face into the strong neck and inhaled deeply. _Like the forest at the beginning of autumn._ Heat pooled low in his gut and he fought the urge to press his hips up to chase his hand. _ _

___“Please,”_ Akaashi's voice came out soft against his ear. His pants were rucked down below his hips and he felt a warm palm carefully taking his length in hand. _So so eager already, what'd happened to the sensual, in control Akaashi he didn't know, just that he wasn't the one pressed down on the couch.__ _

__Akaashi grit his teeth with a sharp hiss of breath. It only took a few pumps and he fell apart. _Like a teenager_ , Akaashi's face prickled with a hot flush. His head tipped backward and a groan caught in his throat. He felt lips caressing along his throat. _ _

___He pictured the whole of Bokuto's body from the swell of his ass up to the tips of his stupidly feathered hair. How his curved brows framed eyes dark with promise and lust._ Akaashi thought next of Tsukishima and his heart crawled into his throat. _What would he look like flushed and moaning underneath Bokuto?_ He wanted so desperately his chest ached. _ _

__He squeezed his eyes together even tighter and allowed his hips to buck up into the fist. He came embarrassingly fast and couldn't help the short, bitter laugh that escaped his mouth._ _

__He settled back on the couch and pushed his sweaty hair off his forehead. He opened his eyes and took in the emptiness of his house. “I'm still going to get rid of you.”_ _

__And for the first time a disembodied voice reached his ears: “Good luck with that, Keiji.” Akaashi lurched upward and strained to see anything in the darkness. _Nothing.__ _

__Akaashi muttered under his breath: “Pain-in-the-ass-ghost.”_ _

__He pulled out his phone and wrote out a text to Bokuto:__

> _Bo, I think the ghost is trying to seduce me._

But that felt too ridiculous to send-- _after all the ghost’s seduction had worked out pretty swimmingly so far_ \-- so he deleted it and tried instead: 

> _I miss you, babe_

But he couldn't send _that_ either-- _Bokuto would think he was being held at gunpoint or something_ \--so Akaashi deleted it too. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and settled with:

> _See you soon, Bo_

* * *

Akaashi had been avoiding thinking about the ghost hand job and how to tell Bokuto the entirety of the next day. Open relationship 101 certainly never covered the rules for partners that weren't exactly corporeal. 

He rubbed a hand across his forehead-- _what if the ghost finally decided to get chatty and said something lewd on video?_

His phone pinged and Akaashi contemplated throwing it across the room. Instead, he opened up a text from Tsukishima of all people.

> _Hello Akaashi, this is Tsukishima. I know we briefly discussed this before I left, but would you be alright with me coming back next weekend to collect more footage? I can stay in a hotel in Umioka should you prefer. Thank you for your time. --T_

Akaashi felt a huff of air on his neck, “ _Sincerely yours, Tsukki.”_ Akaashi wished he could elbow the ghost in the face. _Perks of not being corporeal he supposed._

Akaashi shot a glare over his shoulder at the empty room, “Will you behave?” The spirit’s answering hum would have to be enough. 

Akaashi typed back: 

> _You're welcome to stay at the house if it's easier for you. I'll see you then. --A_

He sent it before he could get cold feet. Then he heard a knock on the door. He opened it up and saw Kuroo.

He smiled with brilliantly white teeth: “Hey, thought I'd stop by to thank you for this weekend,” he held up a six pack of beer-- _more expensive than Bokuto's cheap shit, Akaashi appreciated that_. 

"It's no problem,” Akaashi shook his head but accepted the offered gift all the same. He stepped back, “Do you want to come in?” 

“Sure,” Kuroo nodded and tucked his hands into his pockets, “Is Bo around?” 

"No,” Akaashi headed into the kitchen. He poked his head out from the doorway with a wry smile playing on his mouth, "But I’m willing to cook dinner for you.” 

Kuroo laughed and sat down on the couch. He opened his arms up and grinned, “Alright, If you insist.” 

“I do.” 

* * *

Tsukishima rubbed a hand across his top lip. His pet project, _job he tolerated,_ had started to cut into his actual _job._ The thoughts chewed on his mind like a pack of rats at all hours of the day.

Umioka didn't have an updated property map available online-- the most recent from at least a decade ago and noticeably left off some locations-- so Tsukishima had pulled up Google Earth. He typed in Akaashi's address and smiled at the familiar house. Obviously not an up to date photo because his azaleas were noticeably absent. 

He zoomed outward and followed the curving side street back to the main road into Umioka. He scrolled further north up onto the mountain. Nothing. Tsukishima frowned deeply and closed the browser. A bright pink banner greeted him on his google search: _Umioka housing initiative! Call now to see if you're eligible for low housing prices._ He supposed it made sense, many rural communities had implemented such programs to try and attract young people. 

He pulled out his phone and dialed the number. When they answered, he said, “Hi, I'm interested in a property close to the mountain.” 

"Umioka is _perfect_ , rolling hillside--" The woman continued to chatter at him excitedly about the scenic location right on the coast. Her voice sounded like a drone of a thousand flies. Tsukishima rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and contemplated grabbing a fly swatter. _Just in case they decided to burst free from the phone,_ \--not a particularly funny joke in any case and it only left him sighing.

The woman sharply inhaled on the other line, so Tsukishima finally did both of them a small mercy and cut her off, “I'd like something further north.” 

___“Unfortunately, Sir, that's not possible.”_ _ _

"Why? Aren't there properties that way?” A thought bit at the back of his mind, even if there were, would she _really_ be inclined to tell him now? Tsukishima sighed again and the woman drew her breath in sharply once more. 

___“There's only one house north of the city limits and I believe it's already occupied,” she cleared her throat._ _ _

___Tsukishima clicked his tongue, “Well thank you for your time.”_ _ _

___After he hung up he stared at his computer with a dull ringing in his ears._ _ _

____Where exactly did Kuroo come from then?_ _ _ _

* * *

Bokuto stared up at the ceiling, being sequestered away in his childhood bedroom felt equally like entering a time capsule or wearing a pair of pants he'd long outgrown. _Sure, they'd been his pants once but now they belonged in a museum_ or _a mausoleum-- Not covering his ass, thanks very much._ Bokuto felt the metaphor had escaped him a little bit but could hardly muster the energy to care. 

The TV hummed low and dim in the background-- _he tried to focus on the noise and drift back to sleep_. Bokuto sighed and stared at the ceiling again. His mind felt like it wanted to race around in circles--like a damn energizer bunny doing a triathlon-- and a dark, ugly feeling settled in his stomach. 

He flipped his phone up off the bedside table and lurched upward when he saw the missed text from Akaashi _that he'd sent hours ago_ :

> _See you soon, Bo_

Bokuto rubbed his hand across his forehead and hastily typed out:

> _I love you, babe! Can't wait to be back home with you!_

After hitting send a cold weight pulled on his gut. _How stupid could he be? It wasn't_ his _house. And he'd waited so long to respond-- what would Akaashi even think?_ He tossed his phone to the side and flopped down on his back. He clutched a pillow to his stomach and tried to close his eyes. He could feel bile crawling up the back of his throat and his veins throbbing in his neck. 

_You know, Akaashi bought a house without you, Koutarou, because he's outgrown you-- just like you and this room_. Bokuto shoved a pillow on top of his head. After a few moments he gave up and fished his phone out of the blanket it'd gotten tangled up in. 

He texted Kuroo: 

> _You a night owl, Rooster?_

Bokuto waited with a bated breath when the response pinged. He opened up the messages: 

> _I can be for you, airhead. ;)_
> 
> _What's up?_

The stupid winky face made him laugh. Bokuto chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew he should probably act suave or sexy or something not-Bokuto, but he just couldn't. 

> _I can't sleep. I don't want to bug Keiji_

Bokuto stared at those tiny little words: _Akaashi had a deadline for the magazine coming up. He needed whatever beauty rest he could get-- didn't need his boyfriend freaking out about a stupid text._ Bokuto didn't know if he believed himself or not.

He hit send and then his phone rang. Loud enough that Bokuto nearly jumped straight up out of bed. He gripped his chest and answered, trying to keep his voice nonchalant: “Hey, man.” 

___“Hey yourself,” Kuroo greeted from the other line. Kuroo's voice lilted, “Want me to sing you a lullaby?”_ _ _

___Bokuto laughed and clutched a pillow to his chest, “Nah-- but if you wanna just talk, that's cool.”_ _ _

___“Well then, lay back and I'll tell you a story.”_ _ _

___“This feels stupid,” Bokuto said even as he followed along and closed his eyes. Pillowed by darkness and alone with his thoughts, it felt safe to admit _Kuroo really did have such a nice voice_. “You gonna start any time now?”_ _ _

___“Shh,” Kuroo shushing him just made him laugh. Bokuto pinched his lips together and tried to listen. “I'm quite the people watcher, Bo. I've seen some shit.”_ _ _

___“Oh, have you now?”_ _ _

___Kuroo's voice dipped solemnly, “Oh yes. Let me tell you about the woman I saved after she got stuck in a tree trying to rescue a cat.”_ _ _

It felt _nice_ , like under the hum of breathing on the other line he could find himself again. Bokuto's chest swelled up light and airy-- “Alright, take it away, maestro!” Bokuto flipped him onto speakerphone and settled back.

 _His voice sounded soft and rhymic-- like a heartbeat or the way the ghost liked to creak the floorboards at night--_. Bokuto's eyelids dropped down low.

His phone buzzing jolted him out of his stupor. He looked down to see Akaashi texting him back: 

> _It's quiet without you_

> _Even the ghost has shut up_

Guilt pulled at Bokuto before the last text came through and his lips pulled up into a stupid grin that made the sides of his mouth ache:

> _I love you too_

Bokuto fell asleep to the hum of Kuroo's voice and clutching his cellphone to his chest.

* * *

Tsukishima sighed when someone knocked on his door. His top lip pulled up into a sneer, just imaging what solicitor nightmare could've planted themselves on his doorstep-- _Cookies, makeup, or bibles_. He looked out his apartment peephole to see Yamaguchi holding a set of styrofoam cartons. _Well, he was better than a salesperson in any case._

Yamaguchi rapped his knickers on the door: “I brought your favorite, Tsukki!” As though he could sense Tsukishima’s presence behind the door, he held up the package right in front of the peephole. _The logo of Tsukishima's favorite sandwich place-- favorite only because they also made the best miniature shortcakes._

___Tsukishima opened the door with a raised brow, “What do you want, Yamaguchi?”_ _ _

"Hinata told me you've been acting weird at work.” _Of course Hinata did, when did he ever leave anything alone._ Tsukishima's eye twitched but he widened the door and allowed Yamaguchi inside. 

___When they had set up at the kitchen table eating sandwiches in utter silence, Yamaguchi cleared his throat. Tsukishima shot him a withering stare but that just perked him up. “You wanna tell me what's bothering you?”_ _ _

___Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, “Not particularly.”_ _ _

___“I can't help if you won't let me,” Yamaguchi gave him a smile before taking a big bite of his sandwich._ _ _

___Tsukishima exhaled sharply: “Fine. I met someone in this small backwater town, he said he lived there but that's impossible.”_ _ _

___Yamaguchi wrinkled up his nose, “Why's that impossible? Anyone can live in a shitty little town if they want.”_ _ _

___“There aren't any houses where he said he's from.”_ _ _

___“So?” Yamaguchi chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, “He could live in his car or something-- you know, free spirit type.”_ _ _

___Tsukishima nodded, “That's true.”_ _ _

___Yamaguchi leaned across the table with a conspiratory wink, “Or he's the ghost.” Tsukishima blinked once, then twice. Yamaguchi burst out laughing and shook his head, “I'm kidding! You know I'm kidding.”_ _ _

___After Yamaguchi had left, Tsukishima pulled out his laptop and searched for one phrase: _two tailed cat spirit.__ _ _

He pulled up Wikipedia and felt like an idiot for regressing to that point:

> _In the mountains there are creatures with the face of a cat and large body of a dog called nekomata which are said to eat humans._

He scrolled down and saw an old artwork of a kimono-clad woman--she appeared to be a cat, or more aptly a nekomata, upon closer inspection-- playing a shamisen.

> _There are stories that deep in the mountains they shapeshift into humans._

Tsukishima shook his head: _that's utterly ridiculous._ He looked down further for the domestic nekomata.

> _A cat that is several years of age will come to have two tails, and become the yōkai called nekomata._

Tsukishima nodded, certainly a village cat transforming made more sense. Perhaps Kuroo traveled into Umioka and had unwittingly adopted the village’s very old, very dangerous cat. 

Tsukishima frowned: why then would strange phenomena be happening at Akaashi's house? 

He saw a hyperlink to a book called Yamato Kaiiki. He opened it up and skimmed the excerpt of one of the stories:

> _Those inside a wealthy samurai’s home started witnessing poltergeist activity. Countless shamans and priests were called to try and resolve the issues. None of them were successful and the terror inside the home continued.  
>  One day a servant saw his master's cat carrying a shikigami with his master's name imprinted upon it. The servant killed the cat and everyone saw it had two tails.  
>  After the cat's death, the poltergeist activity ceased. _

__

Tsukishima's frown deepened, surely he wasn't seriously considering killing a cat. _A cat that didn't even live at Akaashi's anyway_. His stomach curdled: _Absolutely not an option_. He rubbed his temples, at least this gave him a place to start investigating in earnest.

Before he fell asleep that night he couldn't quite escape Yamaguchi’s words from before: _Maybe he's the ghost?_

Tsukishima snickered up at the cold expanse of his ceiling, “That has to be one of the dumbest things I've ever heard.” He pointedly ignored the chill in his gut and rolled onto his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos/comments, it really has motivated me to finish editing this thing. ^_^'


	4. The Neighbor

Tsukishima drove down the road, dodging potholes on the poorly maintained streets. He stared up at the grey sky and hoped a rainstorm wouldn't start. 

A black blur darted out in front of him. He slammed on his brakes and looked on with abject horror at the familiar cat sitting in the center of the pavement. 

He pulled over and slowly approached him. The cat looked up at him and if a cat could smile he would be. _He looked awfully self-satisfied too_. 

The cat turned to jello in his arms and meowed happily. Tsukishima placed the cat in the passenger seat and stared at him closely. “You're Kuroo's cat, aren't you?”

The cat rumbled and started kneading the leather seat. Worried about his claws, Tsukishima shoved his jacket underneath him. He stroked his fingers along the cat's back, down toward his exceedingly large, furry tail. The cat gave a small hiss so Tsukishima stopped.

Tsukishima parked at the convenience store in Umioka and turned toward the cat, “Do you want anything?” The cat ignored him in favor of lounging in Tsukishima's jacket. Tsukishima decided he'd pick him up a bottle of water and a can of tuna all the same. _Other than his experience trying to nurse a baby bird back to health in the first grade, he'd never taken care of a pet before._

After collecting the items, he headed to checkout. He smiled politely at the cashier, trying to stop his expression from looking too dour. “The black cat that hangs around town, how old is he?” The cashier-- _Asahi, the same as before, Tsukishima noticed with a slow blink_ \-- let out a thoughtful hum.

“At least a decade. People like to joke he's immortal but I'm pretty sure there are just multiple strays breeding up in the woods.” 

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, “I’m looking for someone who said he was the owner, he's a bit shorter than me with dark, messy hair.” He cleared his throat, “Good looking guy.” 

Asahi shot him a funny look, but only said, “I may have seen him once or twice.” 

“He doesn't live around here?”

“It's a small town,” Asahi said with a shrug. A quiet insistence that _if_ he lived here, Asahi would know. Still, he offered up: “He could live further out in the country or a neighboring town-- there's lots of others along the coast.” 

“Well, thank you,” Tsukishima replied. He took out his phone in the parking lot and texted Akaashi:

> _Are you able to send me Kuroo's number? I found his cat on the drive in and would like to drop him off. Thanks-- T_

Tsukishima got back into his car and opened up the can of tuna for the cat. The cat preened at him and swiveled his tail and purred. Tsukishima scratched behind his ears. He reversed and started back along the road.

Tsukishima heard his phone buzz. He wrestled it out of his back pocket while trying to keep an eye on the road. 

Before he could read the message he noticed the cat had disappeared from the passenger seat. Tsukishima stopped the car and looked under the passenger seat, in the back seat, and under the duffle bag that held his camera equipment. 

He forced himself to breathe out. _All the windows and doors are locked, the cat couldn't have gotten out_. He felt sweat prickle on his brow. _Where had he gone then?_

* * *

Akaashi threw his arms in the air, “Really? We're back to this?” He gestured to where his mug sat atop the impenetrable height of its stainless steel castle-- _why did it always have to be the fridge?_

Akaashi folded his arms across his chest, “You'll be pleased to know Tsukishima is coming to visit today.” The floorboards gave a soft creak in hopeful acknowledgment. Akaashi quirked up one of his brows, “Unless I change my mind.” 

Akaashi twisted on his heel and nearly screamed when the rug moved underneath him. He latched onto the kitchen island with white fingers. His neck throbbed from the pounding of his heart. Akaashi placed a hand on his chest and shot a look over his shoulder, “You're acting ridiculous.” The walls gave an answering groan. 

Luckily the house quieted for the rest of the morning-- giving Akaashi ample time to stow away the mess of quilts he had on the couch and clean up the few plates stacked up in the sink. 

Akaashi wiped his hands on a towel and checked his phone to see a missed text from Tsukishima asking for Kuroo's number. 

Akaashi typed out to Kuroo:

> _It’s Akaashi. Tsukishima found your cat wandering around and wants to drop him off._
> 
> _You should really get him a leash._

Only a few moments and a text pinged from Kuroo:

> _I'm actually in town right now! If Tsukki’s staying at your house I can come pick him up from there later._

> _And how’d you feel if someone put you on a leash?_

Akaashi scoffed out a laugh:

> _Kinky._

Kuroo sent back an emoji blowing a kiss and Akaashi wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to feel about that. _It reminded him of Bo and had warmth curdling in his gut._ Akaashi shook his head and followed up:

> _I'll let him know to bring the cat here then. Bo will be overjoyed-- he might try and steal him._

Akaashi felt his lips drawing up into a smile at Kuroo’s response:

> _The cat or Tsukki?_

And Akaashi felt just bold enough to send a single word:

> _Both_

He could just picture the grin on Kuroo's face. Akaashi tried to steel his expression back into a mask of neutrality and texted the plan to Tsukishima. He also tacked on Kuroo's number at the end for good measure in case Tsukishima wanted it in the future.

* * *

Bokuto hopped off the veranda when Tsukishima's car pulled in. He waved an arm toward him and let out a whoop: “I heard you have my favorite kitty cat on board!”

Tsukishima peeled himself out of the driver’s seat with a drawn expression. Behind the glare of his glasses, Bokuto couldn't see his eyes which only left the tight frown of his mouth to go by. “I did,” Tsukishima folded his arms across his chest, “He disappeared during the drive.” 

“He jumped out?” Bokuto scratched the back of his neck.

Tsukishima shook his head, “Will you help me check the car?” 

“Of course, man!” 

Together they dug through his bag, lifted up the seats, looked back under those seats, and Bokuto even dug through the glove box on the off chance the cat somehow managed to shove himself inside. Absolutely nothing.

“He was sitting right there,” Tsukishima pointed to the passenger seat after they'd put his car back together, “On my jacket, eating tuna.” 

“Sounds like that little guy was living the life,” Bokuto couldn't help but tease with a wink. Tsukishima just glowered at him with pinched lips. He tried to gentle his tone as best he could, “Lighten up, Tsukki, this town is full of weird shit.” 

Tsukishima heaved out a sigh and his nose wrinkled up: “ _Still_.”

Bokuto reached out and touched his arm, “I'm sure he'll get home fine. Kuroo says he's a crazy little cat.”

Tsukishima looked at him very closely and the whole energy around him shifted. “Do you know where Kuroo lives, Bokuto?” Tsukishima’s bright eyes burnt a hole through him. Bokuto thought he looked really nice when he actually cared about something. _Even if he looked like he'd gone halfmad._

“Uh, not really,” Bokuto's eyebrows knit together, voice drawling slow, “Why?” 

“I find it odd,” Tsukishima admitted with a low voice. He folded his arms across his chest and his eyes took on a look like he saw something miles away.

“Specs, I think you're still a bit spooked. C’mon inside,” and Bokuto breathed a sigh of relief when Tsukishima allowed himself to be shepherded in.

* * *

Akaashi noticed Tsukishima keeping something to himself. His mouth had pulled into a firm little line and he seemed reluctant to talk about much of anything _important_. Rather, he'd schooled himself into a stoic professional-- none of his muffled snickers or haughty glances down his nose. _Akaashi felt bad for how much his chest ached at the loss_.

Akaashi stared at the beady little red eye of the camera. Tsukishima cleared his throat with a even gaze. Akaashi looked at him head on and his expression crumpled: the side of his mouth quivering, and sighing loudly: “That's enough for today.” Akaashi's throat felt gritty from talking for so long. Tsukishima turned the camera off and sank into the seat across from him. 

“This entity, Akaashi,” Tsukishima spoke slowly, “Has it ever threatened you?” _And here he thought the interview had ended._

Akaashi glanced up at the ceiling, “No.” he blinked and behind his eyelids he thought of the texts he'd sent Kuroo after Tsukishima and Bo had stumbled inside.

> _Listen, the cat escaped from Tsukishima. It might be better if you don't come over today._

Because Tsukishima seemed on edge. The house had already crawled its slimy little way under Akaashi's skin, so why would anyone else be different. Akaashi felt like he'd waited too long to send the followup text:

> _But what about tomorrow?_

Akaashi chewed the inside of his cheek. “Are you alright, Kei?” 

Tsukishima's mouth curled up slightly on the edges but he shook his head. “It’s playing games with me.”

Akaashi's voice came out more measured than it had any right to: “That's what it's been doing,” _to me, when I'm alone in this house and I wonder if I'm starting to lose my mind._ Akaashi plucked at the dry skin of his cuticles before tucking his hands between his knees. 

Tsukishima pulled off his glasses and rubbed between his eyes. “It could be dangerous.” 

Akaashi nodded slowly and stood. For a moment Tsukishima burned like the sun and Akaashi couldn't look directly at him. Still, he reached out, “Then thank you,”’ He crouched by Tsukishima's chair, “For being here.” He gave a small squeeze to his knee. Tsukishima blinked at him slowly only for bright, wide-eyed excitement to color his face. 

The expression didn't last long before Tsukishima schooled his feature back to neutrality. Tsukishima nodded, “Of course.”

“We can take a break for the rest of the evening,” Akaashi gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, “Bo brought over some hideous box wine I need help finishing.” 

A small laugh bubbled up in Tsukishima's throat-- _a guarded, quiet sound_. Tsukishima quashed the noise with a polite smile, “I'd be fine with that, Keiji.”

And not for the first time, Akaashi wondered what it'd be like to pull him into a kiss.

* * *

Bokuto held up his phone and gave it a conspiratory wiggle. The inside of his mouth tasted sweet from the cheap booze and a giddy drowsiness had settled over the corners of his consciousness. “You like dancing, Specs?” He scrolled through Spotify playlists-- _dirty, hard club music would seem tactless, right?_ Bokuto chewed the inside of his cheek.

“No,” Tsukishima said as he folded one of his ankles over his knee. He balanced his chin in his palm and looked like a picture of boredom. _But the buzz from the wine had left a small smile on his mouth that he couldn't quite quash no matter how hard he tried._

“Oh, c’mon,” Bokuto waved a hand in the direction of his long, lean form, “I'm sure you're great.” 

“Bokuto has two left feet,” Akaashi pointed out with a wry little smile and nudge of his elbow to Tsukishima's side.

Bokuto's mouth trembled, “Akaashi!” Tsukishima's answering snicker didn't help matters much. “Listen, I’m really good,” Bokuto waved his arms in the air and realized he probably looked like a duck. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look _cool_ instead. He thought of Kuroo but that just made the tips of his ears flush red.

Akaashi unfolded himself from the couch and extended a hand down to Tsukishima, “He'll just keep carrying on if you don't say yes." From the glint in his eyes to the wide, hopeful smile pulling on Bokuto's mouth, Tsukishima obviously knew those words weren't exactly _true_. 

Bokuto nodded along anyway, “Damn right!”

"Then how could I say no?" Tsukishima's words made Bokuto light up like a Christmas tree straight from a hallmark catalogue. His whole face ached from the stupid expression and he let out a loud whoop.

Akaashi pulled Tsukishima up to his feet. Bokuto yelped when music jolted out of the speaker connected to his phone-- smooth and sexy. Bokuto gave a pat to the wall and lowered his voice to tell the ghost, “ _Thanks_.” 

Tsukishima danced awkwardly-- held his shoulders too stiff and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get the steps exactly right. Akaashi, on the other hand, had needle-point precision for every placement of his feet-- _he danced with pure practicality, not with passion._ He and Bokuto had learned how to dance together though-- _stumbling around their childhood bedrooms and in the tiny park between their houses. Bokuto's palms itched with how badly he wanted to show off._

__

__

But he paused when he _looked_ at the two of them together. Bokuto could admit one thing to himself: together their styles clashed and they had no rhythm-- _Like they were in the dark, and Tsukishima's subtle moonlight would be drowned out by the sharp spotlight Akaashi offered_. But they still looked great-- little furrow between Akaashi's brow twitching with concentration and Tsukishima’s steady frown lifting into soft neutrality. 

_Bokuto wanted to try so badly-- for Akaashi, he hoped for Tsukishima, and, selfishly, for himself._

Akaashi pivoted out his right foot and slid his left over to match. Tsukishima missed the cue and half a step too late decided to match him. Bokuto slid in closer to Tsukishima's back, “C’mon, Tsukki!” Before he'd realized it his hands were squaring Tsukishima's hips and trying to guide him into the proper form. Tsukishima's back felt like a searing hot line down his front. Bokuto backed and instantly missed the feel of him. 

Tsukishima glanced over his shoulder, “Satisfied?” Bokuto's mouth tumbled open because _no, he really wasn't_. Akaashi tipped his head to the side and Bokuto could just imagine his response from the dark look in his eyes: _You made this bed, Bo, time to sleep in it._

Instead Akaashi said, “Well, Bo, are you?” 

“Sure,” Bokuto's voice came out embarrassingly high pitched and he tried to stifle the sound into a faked cough. He took another step back and moved his hands off Tsukishima's hips.

A sharp pinch jolted up his backside. Bokuto all but leapt backward and shot an accusing glare across the room. When it became clear they weren't in any immediate danger Akaashi laughed at him. “Have you finally lost it, Bo?”’Akaashi asked very unhelpfully. Tsukishima snickered a bit behind a raised hand. He and Akaashi shared a cute little glance together and Bokuto rolled his eyes.

“I think the ghost pinched my ass,” Bokuto tried to discreetly rub his asscheek. _That_ admission made Tsukishima's shoulders wrack with repressed laughter. “I think our friendly ghost is getting a bit _too_ friendly.” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, “Clearly, Bo.” 

A clouded expression crossed over Tsukishima's face and his mouth pulled into a frown. “It wants to befriend you.” If he'd been like moonlit sky before, now he only looked like the murky grey before a storm.

Bokuto scratched his neck and diverted his eyes to the side, “I mean, he kinda already has, right?” A bitter taste spread through his mouth while he spoke. Akaashi gave him a look and dread settled in his gut like a lead weight: _this, whatever exactly_ this _even was between the three of them, didn't have anything to do with the ghost, right?_

Bokuto could feel the lie he told himself throbbing in his veins. He tried not to let himself look disappointed. On the inside, his heart twisted up into knots.

* * *

Tsukishima woke to the sound of soft voices in the middle of the night. He checked his phone with his eyes squinted against the sudden brightness. _4 am_. He felt the thrumming of a hangover on the recesses of his mind. 

Tsukishima's ears strained but _yes, those were definitely voices._ He got up and gently called, “Akaashi, Bokuto?” Their names slurred on his lips. 

He went into the hallway and his foot bumped into something. It went skidding across the floor and he gasped. He realized one of his cameras laid in the middle of the floor, playing a video on loop. He held up the camera-- _not just any video, but the interviews he'd started filming with Akaashi and Bokuto._

The video timestamp read 3:44 p.m. May 23rd:

> _“My name is Akaashi Keiji,” He forced a somewhat friendly smile on his face only it didn't quite reach his eyes. He cleared his throat, “Strange things happen in this house.” He fiddled with his hands, thumbnail digging into the skin of his palm, “Things I would like to stop.”_

Tsukishima frowned, his hands cradling the video camera trembled. The video suddenly jumped forward, sputtering and crackling before settling on Bokuto’s face. The time now read 4:20.

> _  
> “There's a ghost in this house-- I don't know, but I kinda like it.” His grin looked so bright it could blind someone. He let out a wistful breath, “He's a troublemaker sure, but I think he's just lonely.”_

For just a moment, the video blacked out leaving only a white silhouette of a face in profile. _Kuroo._

Then _with 88% battery still left_ the video camera died. 

Tsukishima headed down into the living room and dropped the camera to the floor with limp fingers. He collapsed on the couch, arms draped over the back. He stared blindly out into the yard, his heart thrummed in his chest and his lungs crawled up his throat. 

_Maybe he's the ghost._

He opened up the window to feel the warm breeze on his face, the song of chattering insects greeting him. 

He took a deep breath and put the back of his hand on his forehead. _It's impossible, this isn't some romanized horror movie. Kuroo is a normal human being_. Tsukishima jolted when a black blur sprinted across the veranda. _A cat. It paused to look back at him._

_It wants to befriend them._

Tsukishima's skin crawled, for the gaze felt more like man’s than an animal’s. _It's the house getting under my skin,_ Tsukishima tried to tell himself before he watched the cat's silhouette broaden into a man’s. 

A man with messy, spiked hair and a smile with a thousand shark teeth. 

_What if it's not the house._

Tsukishima lurched upwards, grabbed his bag from its place by the doorway and headed outside. He'd already made it to the trees when he realized the damp ground had soaked through the fabric of his house slippers. 

His calves and chest ached not even halfway down the steep hill. He leaned against a tree and fought for breath. He shot a mournful glance back toward the direction of the house-- _long out of sight._ He dug through his bag.

Tsukishima crouched down in the weeds and held up his carton of salt. He announced to the empty forest, “I know what you are, Kuroo.” He gave a rattle to the salt and the back of his neck prickled. He turned around to see the man in question standing there with his hands tucked in his pockets. _Like he'd been there all along._

He tipped his head to the side with a smile, “What am I, Tsukki?” 

Tsukishima pointed a finger at him, “You're the cat.” He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and tried to ignore the burning in his chest with each breath he took. 

“I am?” Kuroo's eyebrows pinched together. Tsukishima stepped forward and put a hand on his chest. _Like this_ , Kuroo felt like any other man. Tsukishima's fingertips drew back.

Tsukishima nodded, “You're a nekomata, which explains the poltergeist activity around the house.” Kuroo's hand closed over the back of his. Tsukishima inhaled slowly when his fingertips touched the warm skin of Kuroo's collarbone once more. “You can shapeshift.”

“I feel like a man,” Kuroo's words dipped softly from his lips. He looked up through his dark hair with a hungry gaze, “Don't I?” 

Tsukishima shook his head and he sharpened his voice into something cutting, “But you aren't one.” Kuroo lifted up his hand and Tsukishima shivered at the feel of warm breath against his fingertips. “If you're trying to seduce me, it won't work,” Tsukishima's voice came out strained when his shoulder blades touched the tree. It smelt like rot and old wood. 

Kuroo weaved their fingers together and leaned in close: “Why do you keep coming back here, Tsukki?” 

Tsukishima jerked his chin up to stare down his nose at him, “It's my job, _Kuroo_.”

“C’mon, I can tell when you're lying.”

“Fine then,” Tsukishima frowned and felt his glasses slip down his nose, “For Akaashi and Bokuto.” 

“Because you _enjoy_ them,” Kuroo smiled widely, “Why does it have to be different for me?”

“Do they know what you are?”

“Deep down, Tsukki, I think you're worried they aren't going to care,” Kuroo leaned closer and his smile drew into something close-lipped and knowing, “You worry that you'll stop caring too.” 

Tsukishima’s fingers stroked down along Kuroo's jaw. He brushed two fingers against his pulse point and felt the thrumming of Kuroo's heart, “You're so convinced of your own appeal?” He let out a short laugh-- drenched in bitterness and loathing. 

“Should I not be?” 

Tsukishima grit his teeth, “In a competition between the two of us, I've already lost. I'm aware of that.” He tipped his chin up to try and stop his glasses from further slipping.

Kuroo let out a laugh, deep and light as a bell, “Good thing it's not a competition then, Tsukki.” _That_ tempered the sourness of Tsukishima's mood and like this he could almost pretend. Tsukishima leaned closer to him, so close their lips nearly touched. 

“This is a bad idea,” His words tickled against Kuroo's mouth but the meanness had seeped out of him. 

Kuroo's response came in the form of a wolfish smile, “I'm all about bad ideas, in case you hadn't realized.” 

Kuroo tasted like maple and ash and a thousand of those terrible ideas. _Tsukishima worried he’d lose himself to the feeling and wouldn't know how to stop._

He shuddered at the feel of Kuroo's body slotting between his legs. A hand crept along the backside of his thigh, pulling his knee up against Kuroo's hip. Tsukishima moved in closer-- _dipped into the feeling of buzzing heat that surrounded the nekomata like a perfume._

Tsukishima's lips mouthed along his jawline and Kuroo let out a breathy little sound. _Innocent and light, like his body wasn't pinning Tsukishima's up against the tree and his hands weren't palming at the swell of his ass._

“Kuroo,” Tsukishima said with more of a moan than he'd intended. He held onto his neck with their foreheads pressed together. 

“What's wrong?” 

Tsukishima shook his head, “I need to go back to the house.” He exhaled and their lips nearly touched once more. Tsukishima's chest ached. 

Kuroo nodded, “Alright.” But he softly pressed his mouth against Tsukishima's once more for good measure. Tsukishima groaned into the kiss and his fingertips dug a bruising grip into the meat of his shoulders.

_  
He thought of holding on and never ever letting go._

* * *

When Tsukishima returned to the house he poured a little pyramid of salt down on the veranda regardless to ward off any spirits-- _or, more aptly, one particularly tenacious yokai._

“Salt?” Akaashi asked as he stepped onto the porch. He furrowed his brows when he looked at the pile.

“Yes,” Tsukishima offered up, “I need to talk with you and Bokuto about what's haunting the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for reference I plan to update every two or three days (assuming the formatting doesn't rebel again ^_^)


	5. The Yokai

“What do you mean Kuroo is a cat that's also _demonic_?” Bokuto's voice had reached an embarrassingly high pitch. 

Akaashi rubbed between his eyes, “Exactly what he said, Bo.”

“But he looks like a normal guy!”

“Not a demon exactly— he’s a yokai,” Tsukishima folded his hands in his laps, “They are known to shapeshift-- normally into young women, but I suppose exceptions are made.” 

“This sounds crazy,” Bokuto shook his head and stood up from the chair, “Totally batshit-- I mean, babe, our neighbor isn't--” His voice broke off into a hollow and dry sound. 

Tsukishima frowned, “It’s your choice if you want to continue trying to film the show.” _If you want me to stay_ , went unsaid.

Akaashi exhaled slowly through his nose, his voice came out more of a whisper for his own benefit than for anyone else: “He was such a nuisance.” Tsukishima wondered if that was Akaashi's attempt to make himself feel better. Going by the way his shoulders had folded in, Tsukishima doubted it worked.

“I texted him, Tsukki!” Bokuto fumbled with his phone and shoved it under Tsukishima's nose, “I _called_ him! How's that possible?” 

“He could actually have a cell phone, perhaps magic, I don't know,” Guilt crawled up Tsukishima's throat when he saw just how many messages they'd been exchanging while Bokuto stayed in the city. _Like old friends._ He chased that thought away with narrowed eyes.

Bokuto raked a hand through his hair, “I need some air.” He shook his head and left for the veranda. 

Tsukishima fiddled with his fingers and listened to the sound of Akaashi's steady breathing. Tsukishima cleared his throat, “You both needed to be told.” I needed you both to be told. His throat bobbed, _they could make their own decisions from there._

“I know, Kei,” Akaashi’s voice stayed quiet. Tsukishima wondered what he felt, _to have a face for the spirit that had kept him company in the house when everyone else had left_. “How do we get rid of him?” 

Tsukishima nodded, “I put salt on the porch, but there are other things we can try.” He flipped open the notepad, “I made a list.”

* * *

“You have a lot of explaining to do, buddy!” Bokuto called from the edge of the veranda. He sunk down to his knees. He folded his arms around himself, “See, because I thought we were friends?” He breathed out a broken sigh, “I don't just mean _hot guy you_ , I'm talking about _house ghost_ you too.” Bokuto settled back on his haunches. 

He heard a rustle from the brush and on the edge of Akaashi's garden stood the cat. Two tails and all. “That's you, isn't it?” Bokuto checked and crept closer to the edge of the porch. 

The cat-- _Kuroo—_ padded toward him. He stopped in front of the porch step and looked into Bokuto’s eyes with a sharp gaze. His tails slowly swiveled behind his body. Bokuto leaned over the edge of the porch and picked up a stick. He drew one long mark through the dirt. 

“Alright, Kuroo, one scratch for yes and two for no,” Bokuto explained. He took a deep breath, “Are you some weird cannibal monster planning to eat us?” The cat scratched two tally marks into the ground. 

Bokuto nodded, “But are you dangerous?” Bokuto's heart crawled up his throat when the cat made a single scratch. He watched the cat's tail unwind itself, revealing two very separate tails had been wrapped up around each other. “For us?” Bokuto clarified. 

The cat looked at him and made the previous tally a twin mark, _no, not dangerous for them_. Bokuto wrinkled up his nose, “I wanted you to be our pet, which is really weird now that I know what human you looks like.” Bokuto could've sworn the cat grinned at him. 

Bokuto flopped onto his back, one hand dangling off the porch, “ _I'm sure you had some very heavy petting in mind_.” He shot a look over at Kuroo, “Your flirting is shameless.” He chortled out a laugh and looked up at the blue sky.

A tiny, sandpapery tongue dragged itself against his hand. Bokuto gave a scratch behind the cat’s ear, “This really is weird now that I know you're a person.” Kuroo loudly purred at him. Bokuto rolled his eyes, “You’re such a shit disturber, you know that?”

* * *

The three of them sat around the table, all looking at each other. Akaashi folded his hands atop on another and pointedly looked at Bokuto, “Bo, the ghost,” He paused and carefully corrected, “ _Kuroo_ can't stay in this house.” 

“Why not?” Bokuto crossed his arms, “He lived here first.” Like trying to convince a toddler to eat lentil beans-- _Akaashi knew that comparison wasn't quite fair and felt his stomach plummet._

Akaashi’s mouth closed into a thin line. He found it difficult to force the words out: “It could be dangerous.” _Weren't people supposed to want to get rid of spirits in their homes? Especially one that bordered on demonic?_

Bokuto shook his head, “I don't think he is.”

“He wouldn't tell you the truth about that,” Tsukishima said with an arched brow. 

Bokuto frowned and his shoulders slumped, “I know that.” His voice had drifted too soft and it made Akaashi want to scream. 

“I don't want to,” _banish him, hurt him, kill him--_ but Akaashi couldn't find the words for any of it. He settled for shaking his head. 

Tsukishima rubbed his temples and Akaashi could see his face withdrawing, “This is a conversation the two of you should have alone--”

“You have an opinion though, don't you?” Bokuto cut in, one of his hands reaching out to gently grab Tsukishima’s sleeve. 

Tsukishima frowned, his voice came out soft when he admitted, “Not particularly.” 

“What do you mean _not particularly_ , you gotta feel something!” And Akaashi felt bad for his relief when Bokuto regained his normal vivaciousness. 

Tsukishima shook his head, “I'm a guest here.” 

“You like Kuroo though, I know you do,” Bokuto's voice had an edge to it-- _like something he desperately hoped to be true._

Tsukishima's face walled off from Bokuto with his mouth pulled into a small line. His eyes narrowed into a glare, “That's not the point.”

“That's the entire point!”

Akaashi reached out and took Bokuto's arm, “Bo.” Akaashi looked at Tsukishima and _he knew--_ Whatever decision Tsukishima had made about seeing the nekomata himself again wasn't being factored into this conversation. For all Akaashi knew, he could be planning to run away with him at nightfall. Akaashi hated how his gut curdled at the thought. _Losing two all at once-- but shouldn't Bo be enough?_ When had he become so selfish.

Bokuto quieted back down with a deep frown. 

Tsukishima pushed back his chair and the legs squeaked on the floor. “I,” he paused and swallowed dryly. Akaashi could just picture him saying it: _I’ve started to care about you both_. “I will help you, if you want.” 

Akaashi looked down at his hands still clasped together, “You've made your mind up about something, Kei, will you tell us what it is?”

“I don't want it to affect your decision,” Tsukishima’s voice grew soft and his eyes had the look of someone staring into a distant future they'd never reach. 

Bokuto stood up with eyes wide as saucers and said, _“Please.”_

“I’d like to see Kuroo again,” Tsukishima frowned, “But that doesn't mean he should live in your house.” Bokuto didn't much care about the last part of the sentence because he let out a hysterical laugh. 

_“I knew you cared!”_ And Akaashi wondered if Bokuto had gotten his feelings about _himself_ and his feelings about Kuroo-the _cat-the ghost_ too tangled up. If he pulled on the Kuroo thread, would the Bokuto threads start to unwind too? 

Tsukishima's mouth dropped in an indignant gape, “Of course I care.” Before he could argue Bokuto had pulled him into a tight hug. Tsukishima lightly patted his back.

“You act so cold, like Keiji,” Bokuto mumbled into his shoulder. Akaashi couldn't find it in himself to be offended. 

“Would now be the right time to say my professionalism is starting to fail me?” Tsukishima asked with a tip of his head and _Akaashi could just see the red flush burning on the tips of his ears._ Bokuto pulled back and grinned. 

Then Bokuto pressed their lips together. The contact only lasted a moment-- soft and brief. Tsukishima let out a startled noise and lurched backward. He looked to Akaashi with wide eyes. Akaashi shrugged up a shoulder, “We have an open relationship.” 

Tsukishima couldn't stop his voice from stammering, “You do?” 

“Yeah,” Bokuto nodded as though it was pointedly obvious and _hadn’t Tsukishima figured that out a while ago?_

Tsukishima leaned close to him again and his voice slipped out with a small, “ _Oh.”_ Then he slotted their mouths back together and his hands tangled up in Bokuto's hair. Akaashi belatedly wondered if he should be jealous, surely he should've been the one to kiss Tsukishima first. But he really couldn't find it in himself to care when they looked so good together-- Bokuto's back muscles were quite obvious under the thin tightness of his shirt and Tsukishima always looked like his pants had been painted on. 

_What did the ghost think about all this anyway?_

That thought died in his arms when he remembered his undeniably horny _ghost_ equaled the very attractive Kuroo. _A horny ghost that Akaashi shouldn't have gotten used to in the first place._

But the ghost _Kuroo_ had done such a great job of making himself seem warm and welcoming toward all three of them, hadn’t he— his charisma undeniably magnetic and Akaashi wondered how much it’d take to escape that pull.

* * *

It started with them going to the living room, drinking more box wine and cheap beer— _but the less cheap shit Kuroo had dropped off days ago_. Tsukishima turned off all his video cameras, throwing in the towel or maybe he just didn't want a potential audience. _Akaashi wondered why it felt more like a wake than a celebration._ Maybe they were all collectively mourning the very real, human relationship they could've experienced with _not-a-nekomata-Kuroo_. Surrounded by static and voices, the house had grown empty and cold. Akaashi knew no amount of TV would chase away the hollowness gnawing in his chest.

“I like you both,” came Tsukishima's voice-- not soft or hard, but matter-of-fact. _Professionalism be damned_ , Akaashi thought with Bokuto's grin goading him on. And yeah, Akaashi certainly liked him too. 

It ended with Akaashi straddling Tsukishima's hips and kissing his slack mouth. Tsukishima's shock faded quickly and he returned Akaashi's kiss with eager lips. He tasted sweet and warm and _alive._ Tsukishima fisted his hand up in Akaashi's short hair. The burning along his scalp had him seeing stars and pressing down all the more.

Tsukishima laid back on the couch, one elbow propping him up with his legs folded against Akaashi’s back. Bokuto saddled up close behind Akaashi, giving a little push to Tsukishima's knee to make room for himself. Tsukishima yielded easily, one leg slipping off the couch and the other pressing snug against the backrest. Akaashi stroked his fingertips down his jawline and watched his chest shudder. 

Bokuto leaned down against Akaashi's back, chin hooked over his shoulder. The contact hot against him but also solid and unyielding-- like a tree on fire before it crumpled into ash. Glorious and fleeting. _They couldn't stay on the small couch forever, but Akaashi couldn't imagine being anywhere else._ He trembled when Bokuto's teeth gently tugged on his earlobe. 

Akaashi wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry. When he spoke his lips brushed against Tsukishima's, “This timing could've been better.” _Earlier, on that first night before they knew any better. Or much later, after they'd all eventually move on. Not tipsy on cheap booze and freshly mourning a collective connection that hadn't even been real._ Akaashi cradled Tsukishima's jaw and wanted to kiss him until they all forgot. 

But Tsukishima's voice came out honest and raw, “I don't care.” 

Bokuto laughed: the sound rang in Akaashi's ears and his chest rumbled along his back. He gave a small pinch to Tsukishima's inner thigh. His voice came out warm and hopeful against Akaashi's cheek: “ _Good_.” 

Tsukishima's throat bobbed and Akaashi leaned down to press a kiss to his Adam's apple. His skin prickled, like someone watched him from far away. Akaashi closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of Bokuto's mouth sliding along the nape of his neck, of Tsukishima's stomach trembling underneath his palm. 

_Like this, he could imagine a third set of eyes on him._

Acid bile sloshed in his stomach and he thought of being aboard a rapidly sinking ship. _He'd never felt so greedy_. He wanted to scream and his voice bubbled up in his throat: _why can't this just be enough?_

And the tiny voice that answered him sent shivers down his spine: _because it could be better._


	6. Kuroo Tetsurou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for any kudos/comments on the previous chapters!

He's pretty sure life started with him sprawled out on his stomach basking with warmth seeping into his skin from bright sunlight overhead. _Or it'd just been so long now that he only liked to think it happened like that._ It sounded as good as anything else

Recognizing the wide world laid out at one’s feet took time. First, he had to take a few toddling steps. _Who are you, where are you--_ Kuroo didn't remember exactly how his world started, but he remembered one aching thought under bright sunlight: what's the point? 

He'd forgotten long ago if he started life as a cat or as a man, _maybe both or something else entirely_ , but it didn't matter. Because nothing mattered. 

Yeah, Kuroo could admit he'd been in a slump for centuries. Moved on into a vacated house close to the mountains where he'd be left with only dry brambles for company. 

_If he'd eaten people once he couldn't remember what they'd tasted like now._

When the children from a budding Umioka stumbled upon him, Kuroo played along with them. He liked the little fingers scratching behind his ear and they had the decency to not try and pull on his tails. He also convinced them to bring him all sorts of little treasures. 

He fancied himself like any regular kami seated upon his shrine. _His Divine right_ or whatever— _Kuroo didn't remember if he'd taken the thought seriously at the time or not._ But the townspeople started paying attention to him. 

Kuroo found the situation so amusing he couldn't bring himself to stop it. He continued receiving food and other little niceties from whoever came across him.

He became a man sometimes, went into town and fooled with the townspeople. _But once you're so old even the most exciting of trysts can become mundane._

Owners to the house came and went, more often than not it sat empty of human life-- _but not forgotten_. Kuroo lived there and the villagers would still sometimes be inclined to bring him things. 

When Akaashi Keiji moved into his shrine, he'd been stunned: _didn't everyone know_ he _lived here?_ Bringing him to his knees sounded appealing. Kuroo didn't really have the guts for the whole terrorizing thing though, so he settled for being a mild nuisance. 

The first time he met him, Bokuto reminded him of an owl hellbent on hooting at his loudest volume, at noon, in the middle of a crowded supermarket. _Kuroo felt a little taken by him to be honest._ He'd love to yowl right alongside-- _they'd be offkey and out of sync with each other, of course._

And it'd been dear Bokuto who brought Tsukishima Kei to _Kuroo's_ house. Apathetic, stick-up-his-ass Tsukki. 

Kuroo felt _interested,_ in a way he hadn't for many years. He wondered if he should be concerned with his feelings: humans were the very best architects of heartbreak after all.

* * *

Outside the wind ruffled his hair. He laid upon his back with his arms folded up above his head. The stars winked at him and Kuroo couldn't recall when he'd last looked at them. 

Kuroo sighed out a breath, “Get it together.” He told himself. He sat up and draped his arms over his knees. “What do you want?” He asked himself with a soft voice. He grabbed a stick and scratched into the earth:

> 1.My shrine  
>  2. ~~Them~~

He felt a small guiltiness but chased it away. _Humans had all sorts of houses, Akaashi could move into one of those if he didn't want to share._ Not to mention all the other little things he could choose from, actually Kuroo considered his request quite modest. He breathed out and repeated, “What do you want?” He slowly scrawled into the dirt: 

> 3\. To watch trash TV and drink cheap beer 

Kuroo shook his head-- it felt stupid to want to do such a thing now. It’d hardly be the same as Akaashi's sad, lone nights in the house. _Or when they all came together._ He slowly crossed that one out too. The shrine would be enough.

He turned into a cat before heading down the hill-- he moved faster like this-- _more agile maybe_. Once he'd reached Umioka he transformed into a man once more. He stretched out his limbs, clicking his tongue at the ache that settled in his bones. He fished out a bag of spare clothing he'd stashed under a tree on the town’s edge and quickly changed. _Tried to make himself look stylish but approachable._

He meandered on in-- walking and walking until he'd reached the gloomy little lights of the bar. Their sad flickering reminded Kuroo of a firefly right before someone pinched it between their fingers.

The bartender looked dour with a face like the bottom of an old skillet-- crusty and greasy. When he sat down at the bar he could smell the wet rankness of tobacco on her breath. 

“What can I get you?” She asked.

Kuroo shrugged up a shoulder, “Whatever's on the tap.” She scoffed out a noise and Kuroo wondered if she thought he looked too uptight. _This place felt like the dirty stain of Umioka._ Kuroo imagined the usual clientele came here from the other nearby coastal towns to escape the prying eyes of their neighbors.

Kuroo slumped down in his chair, “You any good with advice?”

“Do I look like your therapist or mom?” She barked out a laugh and pushed the beer in front of him. Her nails were yellowed and dirt clung to her cuticles. 

Kuroo’s eyes flicked up and he grinned at her, “Sure do.” She raised her eyebrows so he continued right along, “I've gotten myself into a mess-- see, I fooled around with this guy _but_ I've also been sexting his boyfriend _and_ they're both interested in this other guy I made out with earlier today too.”

The woman laughed at him again. It sounded mean and nasally but Kuroo didn't care. “You're a shitshow.”

Kuroo tipped his drink up, _cheers lady,_ “Damn right.” He took a large sip before he leaned across the bar toward her, “What's a good way to proposition someone for a foursome?” 

“Is this a joke?”

Kuroo shook his head and balanced his cheek on his palm, “Unfortunately not-- oh, _and_ they all think I'm dangerous.”

She gave him a side eye, _“Imagine that.”_

Kuroo pushed his lip out into a grimace, “They're hot too. It's a real bummer.”

One of the other patrons-- skin on his face and hands like old leather-- pointed a knobby finger toward Kuroo and slurred, “You fucking around, kid?” 

Kuroo tipped his head back, “Am I?” He took a sip of his drink and his lips smiled against the glass.

The man harrumphed, “What do you think you're doing? This some sort of prank you're filming?” Kuroo raised his hands in surrender but his wide smirk said anything but.

“Listen,” She pointed toward the door, “You should leave. Drink’s on the house.” Kuroo tossed the rest of said drink back and enjoyed the burn down his throat. He looked to the old man clutching his glass with white fingers. 

“Are you sure?” Kuroo tipped his head to the side and tapped a finger against his chin, he leaned in toward the bartender, “Might not be a good idea.”

Her face wrinkled up, “Is that a threat?” The man's face drew into an angry grimace and he stumbled up from his bar stool.

“Nope,” Kuroo shook his head and popped up onto his feet. He left the bar without checking to see if the man sat back down. He whispered under his breath, with a wink over his shoulder at the rundown building, “It's a promise.” _Hopefully she'd prepare for all her glasses and silverware to go missing over the next few days._

He paused in the street and let himself fade anyway. If all nekomata could do it, he didn't know. _For him, ceasing to be felt as easy as breathing._

 _He floated aimlessly atop rooftops and through the trees._ Like this, it'd be easy to spend an eternity. Even easier to forget where he ended and where the world began. He settled over _his shrine_ like a heavy cloud and blew away the little pellets of salt along his porch. 

It felt like sinking into an old pair of bluejeans. 

He'd nearly forgotten he intended to give them space. _Oh well, damage is already done >/I>. So he closed his mind off and drifted._

* * *

_When Kuroo had been very young he'd overheard a story. The storyteller he'd long since forgotten, but he remembered their words:_

__Some people have a red thread tied around their little finger. If they pulled, the thread would only stretch and warp. If they looped it around others or themselves, the thread might tangle. But no matter what they tried It would never break._ _

__If they followed that thread it'd take them to someone else with the same string wrapped around their little finger. No matter time nor place, destiny would find a way to bring them together._ _

_Kuroo had liked squinting his eyes and pretending he could see a mess of red strings tangling the local townspeople together-- _the village wouldn't be renamed Umioka for many decades yet--_ the local fishmonger’s wife and the spice merchant, or two of the local kids who played with stick dolls together. _

_Kuroo had looked down at his own claw and wondered why he couldn't imagine a string on himself. It made his ribs ache._

_If he could be given only three strings now he knew exactly where he'd tie them. _He could just imagine the little triangle of red.__

* * *

__

Akaashi's forehead pressed down against Tsukishima's, their mingling breaths warm and damp. Bokuto's fingertips seared against his hip bone and his little grunts sounded like the most beautiful symphony he'd ever heard. 

They felt more like a knotted ball of yarn than anything else. Pants haphazardly thrown off or rucked down, shirts pushed up in a messy expanse of skin. With one of Tsukishima's long legs thrown over his shoulder and Bokuto's hips baring down between his thighs, _Akaashi felt hot and sweaty and alive._

 _“Tsukki?”_ Bokuto's voice rumbled through Akaashi's core. 

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes toward him but his voice came out breathless: “Yes?” His glasses fogged up and chest heaved for breath. 

“You gonna stay around after this?” Akaashi really didn't think Bokuto had any right to sound so put together while he moved inside him-- _but Akaashi felt too overwhelmed to voice that opinion._ He pressed his hips back against Bokuto roughly, rewarding himself with a sharp inhale and Bokuto's hand tightening its grip. 

Tsukishima nodded with his voice breaking off into a soft keen, _“Yes.”_

“Good,” Bokuto sounded lust drunk and buoyant. The couch gave a hideous creak that threw off the pace Bokuto had been maintaining-- _Akaashi doing his best to keep up._ “This couch might break.” 

Akaashi reached back and dug his fingers into his wrist, “ _I don't care. Keep going.”_ Bokuto had the gall to laugh at him but did a hard thrust that had Akaashi seeing stars and slamming into Tsukishima-- who let out a shameless groan and knotted a hand up in Akaashi's hair. 

Akaashi's thoughts became a tangle of _good, don't stop--_ that broke off into _you better enjoy the show_. Akaashi's skin prickled and he gasped out: “Kuroo?” 

“He’s here?” Bokuto's voice dropped into a low whine when Akaashi and Tsukishima both looked at him-- Akaashi's eyes narrowed and Tsukishima's nose wrinkled up. He looked scandalized at Akaashi: “You're the one that brought it up!” 

“That's fine,” Tsukishima gave a small tug to Akaashi's hair while his eyes bore into a Bokuto, “ _Great,_ but focus for now.” 

Bokuto had no choice to oblige him and Akaashi felt happy to follow along. 

Afterward, in a sweaty sticky pile of limbs, Bokuto quietly asked. “Did you mean it, Tsukki? About us?” 

Tsukishima's eyelids dropped and his mouth curled into a frown, “Yes, if that's what you both want.” He fought off a yawn and finally pushed off his glasses, Akaashi heard them clatter to the ground. He wanted to swipe them off the floor but couldn't muster the energy. 

Akaashi laid his head down against Tsukishima's chest, “That just leaves the question what we're doing about the nekomata still haunting my house.” He could hear the thumping of his heartbeat and thought of slow rain on a windowsill. 

Bokuto hummed and Akaashi threw his legs up over his lap. Tsukishima's fingers traced a slow pattern along his bicep, his words came out soft: “It's your house.” 

Akaashi nodded and tucked his head under Tsukishima's chin, “It is.” 

* * *

Kuroo sloughed off the house like dead skin. _He felt like it too— all crusty and empty._ He’d been plagued with thoughts and dreams— his own and others.

> _A tangle of limbs and a squeaking couch— and if he could’ve, he would’ve piled them up in his embrace and never let them go. That could just be the infatuation talking though._

He pulled himself together around noon and drifted back into Umioka. He draped himself over the larger of the two grocery stores-- _this one Akaashi didn't like and would arrive home grumbling about overpriced tomatoes._

All things considered, making the power shut off was a lot easier than trying to write on a bathroom mirror. 

He folded himself back into a man -- _the shell of one, but a man all the same--_ by the dumpster that smelt like old cheese and urine where no one could see. He slunk into the darkened store with his hands in his pockets. 

“Sorry, sir, we're closing!” A very chipper girl told him. The few shoppers rushed to the checkouts and some shouted at their cashiers. _What do you mean the card reader is down!?_ Kuroo saw one older man running through the store using his cart like a battering ram while the workers tried to wrangle him back into line.

Kuroo nodded, “Alright.” He twisted on his heel and stumbled backward slightly when he bumped into someone. 

“Oh! Sorry about that,” She held up her hands and took a half-step backward. She had her curly hair pulled up in a loose ponytail and dark eyeliner smudged under her eyes. 

Kuroo smiled at her, “No worries.” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder to the chaos unfolding inside the store, “They're closed.”

She gathered her purse to her chest and nodded, “I can see that.” She rolled her eyes, “The world’s a disaster these days.”

They ended up leaving the building together and Kuroo couldn't help but say: “I'm walking up the road to Saito’s,” with a loose flick of his wrist in the general direction of the other grocer’s. 

She hummed and he could smell the mint on her breath from her gum, “It's a long walk.” 

“Not with good company,” Kuroo couldn't help but wink. She shook her head but ended up walking with him all the same. He introduced himself and found out her name was Mei. 

“You're not from around here,” She noted with a tilt of her head. 

He grinned and shook his head, “What gave me away?” 

“You dress like you're from a city,” She gestured to his leather jacket down to the tight fit of his pants. Her voice lowered when she admitted, “And I've never seen you around.” 

Kuroo laughed, “ _Well_ I've never seen you around either.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I'm visiting my grandma.”

“Oh yeah? I'm visiting a friend.”

Mei turned a coy look on him, “Not a girlfriend I hope.” Kuroo laughed again-- _hoped it didn't sound stilted and forced._

Kuroo didn't ask for her number and felt relieved she didn't either. 

_He squinted his eyes and tried to pretend a red thread pulled him back to the house._


	7. Four Strings

Bokuto drummed his fingers on the table and slouched down low in his chair. “Doesn't this feel a little _intervention-y_ to anyone else?” Akaashi stared across the table with a vacant expression and Tsukishima just frowned with his hands folded up neatly in front of him. 

“If you're here, Kuroo, we need to talk,” Akaashi tried again. Like before, only the soft ticking of a clock answered them. 

Tsukishima’s frown deepened, “We should give up.” 

“C’mon, you don't really mean that!” Bokuto straightened back up and threw his hands into the air. “Man, if you're listening we _really_ need--”

“If you say _me_ , I might just blush.”

“Kuroo!” Bokuto twisted around to see the man in question leaning up against the doorframe, _just like he owned the damn place_. A grin stretched across his mouth and Bokuto hadn't realized he'd jumped up from his seat before he heard the clattering of the chair against the ground. 

_“You,”_ Akaashi finished with hooded eyes and a tilt of his head. 

Kuroo waved them off with a deep laugh, “Stop or I really will blush.” He sauntered into the room with a swagger to his hips. “Miss me?” 

Tsukishima looked to the side, his face pulled into a grimace “No, not particularly.” Akaashi didn't say anything at all, just continued staring like Kuroo’s entrance had been some minor inconvenience for him.

So Bokuto cleared his throat and said: _“Yeah,_ obviously.” 

Kuroo stepped up into his space and his hands came to cradle Bokuto's elbows. Kuroo had a sort of magnetism to him-- _like the light of an anglerfish before its jaws snapped down._ This close, Bokuto could smell cinnamon and clove and something tangy sweet. 

Kuroo's voice came out guarded and soft, “You know, owl-head,” Kuroo's fingers reached up to stroke through the mess of his hair, “You're the only one I haven't kissed.” 

Bokuto grinned, “Not the sort of thing you tell a guy on a first date, _rooster._ ” He huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes up, “You make it sound like I'm two-week old leftovers you forgot to take out of the fridge--”

Before he could finish, Kuroo pulled him into a kiss. _Warm and slow_. He tasted like a promise and Bokuto melted. He fisted a hand up in his shirt and pulled him in close. Kuroo's mouth moved back and Bokuto felt it when he spoke: “I'd never leave you in the fridge.” 

Bokuto laughed and shoved at his shoulder, “You're full of shit!” Kuroo grinned and pulled him back in close. Bokuto rolled his eyes, his voice dipped down low, _“So full of shit.”_

“Keep it in your pants, Bo,” Akaashi's deadpan had him withdrawing with a sheepish little shrug. 

Kuroo tilted his head over toward Akaashi: “What if I want it out of his pants?” Tsukishima's face flushed red and his mouth pulled into a hard little line.

Bokuto couldn't stop the laugh, hand smacking on Kuroo's chest, “Whenever you want me, I'm yours!” 

Tsukishima cleared his throat. His expression had closed off into something apathetic and guarded, “We do need to talk, Kuroo.” 

“Okay,” So Kuroo took a seat next to Bokuto's fallen chair and steepled his hands under his chin: “What do you all want then?”

Tsukishima's mouth twisted into a frown, “You know I'm interested in Bokuto and Akaashi.” 

Kuroo breathed out a sigh: “Who could blame you?” _He sounded dreamy and soft._

“You as well, I suppose,” Tsukishima added, hands fiddling together. “But you're not human.” 

“So?” Kuroo lounged back in his chair and folded his arms back behind his head, “Is anyone at this table looking for a conventional white picket fence ending?” 

_“I was,”_ Akaashi crossed his arms, “But instead of 2.5 kids I got acat demon haunting my house.” Bokuto had to hide his grin behind his hand. 

“I have my perks,” Kuroo’s mouth turned up into a smirk, his voice dipped down with humor, “You wanna fuck a neko? I can have cat ears and a tail.”

Bokuto felt his face burning with how high-pitched his voice came out: “You can what!?” It didn't help that Tsukishima's ears flushed and Akaashi's mouth dropped. The three of them shared humiliated eye contact. 

“I have other party tricks too,” Kuroo tacked on with a wry little grin. 

Bokuto hoped his voice didn't sound too strangled: “That's nice.”

* * *

“Kageyama,” Tsukishima greeted. He laid his forehead against the cool glass of the windowpane. His cellphone pressed into the skin of his cheek— _he wondered what it’d be like to just throw the thing down into the wharf so they could never pull him back._

Kageyama's voice sounded like a swarm of gnats, “Tsukishima.” 

“We can't film here.” 

“Why?” Suspicion flitted through the static of the phone. Tsukishima's lip curled up when he continued, “You liked the location.” 

Tsukishima looked out at the grey clouds and grey weeds outside, “When has _that_ ever mattered to you?” His voice came out sharp and mean, “The couple lied.” 

Kageyama scoffed out a noise, “We saw the video where you claimed someone didn't show up on the recording.” 

“They don't want to do the show,” Tsukishima let out an acrid laugh: “You want to force them, _King_?” 

“I didn't say that.”

“I'll drop the equipment off on Monday for Kenma.” 

“Fine.” 

Tsukishima hung up and stared at the blank screen of his phone. Only a few minutes passed before his phone started ringing, when he saw Yamaguchi’s number he sent him to voicemail.

Tsukishima tapped his forehead against the glass. Picking the ghost over his job-- _what would everyone say once they found out he'd given up on the location he'd spent weeks vetting?_ His face drew into a hard frown, “This is just you, Kei,” he said to his reflection in the glass, “You couldn't get it together for one job.” 

His stomach rolled-- why did he have to get invested? What did he have to show for it anyway: _the potential of a relationship he didn't even know if he could handle?_ Great. 

“Tsukki?” Tsukishima looked over his shoulder to see Bokuto standing in the doorway. His mouth drew into a low frown. 

“It's nothing,” Tsukishima said and brushed past him. Bokuto's hand closed on his bicep. 

“It's not.”

Tsukishima's eyes narrowed and his tone came out harder than he wanted, “What?” 

“It's not nothing,” Bokuto said and his mouth curled back upward into a smile, “If you care about it.” He released his arm and took a step back. 

Tsukishima looked down at him and his lips trembled. _He didn't know what he could say._ “They're not going to continue filming the show here.” 

A little furrow formed between Bokuto's brows, but his voice still came out upbeat, “That's okay!” 

“Is it?” 

“Yeah,” Bokuto nodded, “It's not like you really need the excuse to hang around now, right?” Tsukishima's mouth parted but he couldn't make himself say the words: _I thought you'd be disappointed too._ Bokuto gave a pat to his shoulder, “You're stuck with us.” 

Tsukishima wanted to breathe out a sigh, wanted to laugh, and he wanted to scream. He settled for saying: “Good.” He twisted on his heel and Bokuto's laugh followed him down the stairs.

* * *

It'd been late, already dark out when a knock sounded on the door. It quickly grew into an incessant pounding. Tsukishima felt a headache throbbing at his temples. 

Akaashi finally opened it, “Who are you?” He asked the duo that stood on his porch. One had very familiar ginger hair and the other had a familiar mousy face. 

“Hi! We work with Tsukishima--” Hinata bubbled up like a leaky pipe. 

Tsukishima shepherded the two of them back outside, grabbing Yamaguchi. “How did you find me?” Tsukishima bit out and he worried his fingers dug into Yamaguchi's arm too tightly. 

Hinata just laughed, “There's only one haunted house in Umioka!” He shot a glance back to where Akaashi still stood in the doorway, “Your house is pretty famous among the locals!” 

Yamaguchi jerked his arm out of his grasp. “What's going on, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked with his voice getting low. 

“Nothing,” Tsukishima wrinkled his nose up, “I told _the king_ that over the phone.” 

Yamaguchi shook his head, “I know you're lying to us.” He hunkered in closer, “Why are you still staying here if they said they didn't want you to research and film the show?” 

“Does that have anything to do with you, Yamaguchi?” Tsukishima asked with an arched brow and a step backward. 

Yamaguchi’s face fell, “Tsukki.” 

“Honesty, Tsukishima, we were worried you'd been possessed or something,” Hinata explained with his hands on his hips.

“Great,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “Now that you've driven _over an hour_ to figure that out, how about we go to a hotel?” 

“Kei,” Akaashi spoke up from the doorway.

Tsukishima twisted to face him and shook his head, “I can't stay, Keiji.” 

“Why not?” And Tsukishima's heart plummeted with the voice that spoke up. _Kuroo._ His eyes scanned over the two newcomers and his mouth curled up into a crooked grin. 

Tsukishima gestured to the two pointedly but Kuroo seemed happy to ignore the gesture so Tsukishima said: “We’re leaving.”

“Wait! Who's leaving where?” And then Bokuto's head popped up in the doorway too. He grinned at the ginger with an excited, “Hinata, right? I'm a big fan!”

And Hinata’s eyes got all big and starstruck. His mouth trembled and he looked like he could fall over at any moment. _Tsukishima absolutely wouldn't catch him, so hopefully he didn't land on a rusty nail or something._ Akaashi turned a wry look toward Bokuto, “I think you broke him.” 

“Nah, he's okay,” Bokuto shot a thumbs up to Hinata who _slowly_ returned the gesture. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “I have spare blankets and an air mattress,” Akaashi said, “If you'd rather stay the night.”

“You've really made it a habit to pick up strays,” Tsukishima said through gritted teeth. Kuroo had the audacity to laugh at him. 

“Sure!” Hinata gushed. Yamaguchi at least bothered to look cowed. 

“If it's no problem--”

“Not at all,” Kuroo kicked the door open wider with his heel, “Come on in.” Tsukishima shot him a withering stare and that just got him a wider grin. 

They set the other two up in the spare room-- _Tsukishima's room and he absolutely didn't feel bitter about it._ Yamaguchi looked at him with a careful, “Where will you sleep, Tsukki?”

“The sofa,” Tsukishima said and he didn't care if it sounded convincing or not. Hinata seemed to go along with it and nodded his head up and down fast enough Tsukishima got a headache just looking at him. 

“Well, good night,” Yamaguchi adjusted his weight on his feet and nodded at Akaashi, “Thanks, sorry for putting you out.”

Akaashi waved off the gratitude with a shake of his head, “It's fine.”

Kuroo grinned and said _quite loudly_ toward them, “Well then, I'll be off!” And popped off just like that with a bounce in his step. 

At Hinata and Yamaguchi's confused looks Akaashi clarified, “My neighbor.” 

Hinata grinned widely and showed off his white teeth, “Okay!” Yamaguchi frowned for a moment, wheels in his head trying to turn— _what he could even realize Tsukishima didn't know, afterall Yamaguchi had never been the brightest bulb to begin with._

Akaashi left the room-- Tsukishima heard his feet on the stairs, so likely in search of Bokuto. Hinata flopped down on the futon with a loud sigh. 

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi crept close to him, “So is the neighbor the ghost?” He twisted his voice up into something that could almost resemble friendly teasing.

Tsukishima moved past him, “What are you on about?” An utterly rhetorical question that Yamaguchi knew better than to try to answer. He could feel Yamaguchi's eyes on the back of neck and could picture his frown. Tsukishima closed the door and sagged against it. 

He felt surrounded by a whirlpool, but trying to claw his way up to land would do nothing but change the location of his grave: either drowned in dark water or picked apart like carrion by the gulls.

Tsukishima exhaled through his nose. He heard a cough— _noise soft but theatric—_ and looked up to see Kuroo sitting at the top of the stairs. He flounced down onto his back, chin lifting up to stare upside down at Tsukishima. A wide grin curled on his mouth and his hair spilled out around his head like a halo of liquid mercury. Tsukishima's nose twitched and he purposely deepened his frown. 

Tsukishima walked over anyway and crouched down on his haunches. He pressed his index finger to the center of Kuroo's forehead. “You know, Kuroo, it's hard to believe you _ever_ passed as human.” 

Kuroo continued smiling with his bright teeth, his voice humming low in his throat, “Why’s that?” 

“You're too attractive,” Tsukishima stood back up and dusted off his pant legs. 

Kuroo threw his head back even further and laughed. “I've never had that complaint before, Tsukki,” He sat up and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Tsukishima walked past him down the stairs, shooting a look— _withering and haughty—_ over his shoulder. The words died in his throat before he could speak. His fingers clutched the railing and he could only look at Kuroo: _His hair a dark ink blot of cascading colors and his eyes glittered with a thousand promises._ Tsukishima's throat bobbed, “So that is something you control,” his words came out more breathless than he intended. 

From Kuroo's head stood a pair of feline ears and from his back two large tails unfurled. When he spoke Tsukishima took in the _sharpness_ of his canines, “Sure is.” 

“I'd consider reverting back before Akaashi's other house guests see,” Tsukishima twisted on his heel and headed down the stairs. 

Tsukishima reached the living room and saw Bokuto and Akaashi quietly speaking with each other. Tsukishima opened his mouth to ask why Bokuto's shoulders seemed so slumped and his face drawn when a loud _sizzle_ cut through the air. 

So loud it could've been their skin touching the hot grease of a frying pan. The air felt like the ceiling would split open to let in a thunderstorm. Tsukishima stumbled backward. 

All that fanfare for Kuroo to suddenly appear lounging on the couch. 

Bokuto let out a shout-- muffled only by Akaashi's hand clamping down over his mouth-- and lurched back in surprise. His shoulders slammed into Akaashi, who let out a grunt in protest. Kuroo pretended to check his nails but looked up through his thick eyelashes with a wry smile. 

“Dramatic,” Akaashi deadpanned while he released Bokuto— _who continued clinging onto his wrist anyway._

Bokuto's voice rose into a high pitched groan, “You scared the shit out of me, man!” 

Kuroo's left ear flicked, and his grin spread into something dark and knowing, “Want me to make it better?” 

Bokuto puffed out his chest, “Yeah, obviously.” 

Tsukishima knew he should resist— Yamaguchi and Hinata of all people were upstairs— but he felt his resolve chipping away. Left weak and exposed, saying no didn't seem so appealing.

Tumbling upstairs into Akaashi's king sized bed however certainly did.

* * *

Kuroo let out a laugh, Akaashi's mouth tickled against the sensitive skin on the underside of his jaw. Kuroo could just imagine him pressed up on his tiptoes to reach.

Bokuto's hand twisted up in the hem of his shirt, lips skirting above his belt buckle. He pressed a warm open-mouthed kiss to the vee of his hipbone. His fingers dove under his tshirt and traced against the flat muscle of his stomach. 

Tsukishima stared down his nose at Kuroo, “These walls aren't well sound proofed.” His body pressed close enough to Kuroo's side that he could feel the warm thrumming of him. 

Bokuto's head lurched up at Tsukishima, one hand falling limply to his lap, “What?”

“I heard you and Akaashi on my first night here,” Tsukishima quirked up his eyebrow with a glance down to where Bokuto kneeled. 

“You did!?” Bokuto’s mouth opening and closing uselessly. He decided to pinch his lips up into a nervous grimace that _almost_ passed for a smile. 

Akaashi's voice felt like a wet purr against his jawline, “Did you like it?” Kuroo let out a sharp laugh in agreement, hand pressing into the small of Tsukishima's back. 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “Clearly I did.” He stifled a sound when Kuroo's fingers dipped past his waistband. _Only just touching the bare skin above the swell of his ass._

“We just have to be quiet,” Bokuto nodded to himself. _The sound of him unzipping Kuroo’s pants still cut through the room like a gun had gone off._ Kuroo felt sure they'd all stifled answering groans, inhales, or sighs. 

“If you think you're capable,” Came Akaashi's wry call over Kuroo's shoulder. 

Bokuto nodded, now more eagerly, “‘Course I am, babe!” Kuroo slowly blinked down at him. The skin of his stomach quivered when Bokuto eased his pants open. Akaashi's arm moved around him, underneath his shirt and his cold fingertips brushed up along his sternum.

Kuroo's tails gave a slow flick— _curled and relaxed—_ his ears arched forward with anticipation. He reached backward, hand closing on Akaashi's hip to keep him pressed close. Tsukishima leaned closer on his other side, nose brushing against his jawline

Bokuto's calloused fingers felt like heaven on his skin and his warm breath nearly enough to have Kuroo falling over the edge. 

Kuroo let out a sharp sound-- dangerously close to being a trill-- when Bokuto's mouth closed over him properly. All the blood rushed from his head and it left him feeling weak and so hungry. 

He could smell Tsukishima and Akaashi— like a dewy moonlit evening in a forest full of pine— felt their hands and Bokuto's on his chest. If he closed his eyes he nearly forgot where they ended and where he began.

Kuroo wanted to drown in the wet heat. His eyes had grown dilated and black with pleasure. He wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out what. Akaashi's fingers caught his nipple, rolling it between the pads of his fingertips. Tsukishima's mouth sucked a kiss into the crook of his neck. Kuroo tangled a hand up into Bokuto's hair and melted into the contact. Surrounded by warmth on all sides he imagined his body could burn up.

 _Fuck red threads_ , Kuroo would be happy to settle for _this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who’s read this far! I hope you’ve enjoyed!


	8. The People Who Live There

> _Hinata sat on an overstuffed armchair. Behind the camera, a female’s voice asked him, “Has there ever been a location so frightening you couldn't complete filming?”_
> 
> _Hinata let out a laugh-- high pitched and grating-- he leaned forward, “Not really scary-- but we did have one job we didn't finish.”_
> 
> _“Oh?”_
> 
> _“Yeah,” Hinata nodded, “It was a little house on the coast in this small town called Umioka. One of our researchers-- Tsukishima, he does a lot of work off camera-- had been looking into the property before he decided we shouldn't go.”_
> 
> _The woman cleared her throat, “Anything in particular made him change his mind?”_
> 
> _Hinata winked conspiratorially, “He told me after it could’ve been a Nekomata-- a cat yokai that eats people or something,” Hinata laughed and shook his head, “But I'm not so sure since he lives in the house now.”_
> 
> _“Really? So he researched a haunted house and decided to move in anyway?”_
> 
> _Hinata continued laughing and grinned widely, “Paranormal research attracts all types, Harada. We're all a little crazy.”_

Tsukishima's forehead throbbed and he contemplated sending Hinata a scathing text. _When he said not to ever mention Umioka or the nekomata he meant it._

Bokuto cuddled up closer to his side. He scratched the back of his neck, “It’s a good interview,” He nudged Tsukishima with his elbow, “We got our five seconds of fame after all.” 

Tsukishima sighed and rubbed between his eyes, _“Unless_ some airhead comes here trying to figure out what paranormal activity scared off KSS.” 

Bokuto laughed and shrugged, “C’mon, Tsukki-poo, what're the chances of that?”

* * *

Kobayashi shifted his weight from foot to foot. He rapped his knuckles against the door again. The strap of his bag dug into his shoulder so he shifted it over to the other. 

“Hello?” He called and knocked louder on the door. “I'm looking for Tsukishima, Bokuto, or Akaashi.” The wind cut through the thin fabric of his gloves so he shoved both hands deep into the pockets of his parka. 

Finally the door wretched open. A man with hooded eyes and short, dark hair greeted him. “Whatever you’re selling, we don't want it.”

He shook his head, “You misunderstand! I'm here to talk with you.” He fiddled with the name tag attached to his bag, “My name’s Kobayashi Reo, I work for Paranormal Adventures.” 

His gaze dropped flat and unimpressed. “I'm Akaashi Keiji, please get off my porch.”

“Listen, it'll only take awhile,” He shifted his bag back to the other shoulder, “I watched an interview with KSS, apparently you agreed to be on the show at one point.”

Akaashi huffed out a sigh, “We did.”

“Great! Why'd production change their mind?”

“We came to a joint decision,” Akaashi sidestepped the question. He placed his hands on his hips and his face pinched down into a glower. 

“Is the house haunted, Akaashi?”

“I don't see how that relates.” Not an outright denial though, so Kobayashi would consider that a step in the right direction. 

“Just curious,” He shifted his bag down into the crook of his elbow, “I want to ask a few questions about your experience.” Melted snowflakes clumped in his eyelashes and he tried to blink them away. 

Akaashi's eyebrows pinched together, “Why?”

He cleared his throat, “I’m putting together a docu series on most haunted locations on the coast. Theme is _‘destination nightmare’.”_

“What if it isn't haunted?”

Kobayashi smiled knowingly and winked, “It is though, isn't it?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, “Do you have a number?” He eagerly fished out his business card— _self-made, but laminated and on thick card stock—_ “I’ll talk to my housemates and get back to you.”

“Tsukishima Kei, right? Were you surprised he wanted to move in considering the haunting?”

“No,” Akaashi deadpanned.

Koybayashi clicked his tongue and nodded like he understood— _even if he really didn't at all._ He leaned over and held out his business card, “I look forward to your call!” Akaashi pinched the card from his hand and frowned down at it. 

“Alright,” and then the door closed in Kobayashi’s face. He took a step back and smiled at the house— _it certainly looked unassuming on the outside_.

He twisted on his heel and bounced off the porch. He nearly let out a yelp when a man stood in front of him. Snowflakes littered across his dark hair and his cheeks were flushed red from the cold. “Hey, can I help you?”

“Oh,” he blinked awkwardly and held out a hand, “I'm Kobayashi, I was asking some questions about the house.” He gestured loosely to where the sharp alcove of rocks overlooked the boats and wharf of the town below, “It's a scenic location.” This far down, they could've easily been a colony of ants. 

“Kuroo Tetsuro,” He introduced himself with a genial smile that didn't reach his eyes. He gestured to the house with a thumb, “I’m friends with the owner.” 

“Listen, can you put in a good word for me? I'd like to conduct a few interviews about the property and the haunting that _allegedly_ happened back in summer.”

Kuroo grinned and nodded, “Sure thing.” Before he went up the porch he called over his shoulder, “Drive safe, the roads are slick!”

In Kobayashi’s hurry to get back down to Umioka, he didn't realize that Kuroo hadn't left any tracks in the snowfall.

* * *

Kobayashi headed back to the house a few days later. He looked at the porch and noticed the door left ajar. Melted slush littered the entryway and soaked through the floor mat. 

He ambled up and gave a tap to the doorway. Inside the house he heard footsteps and a loud voice: “Hey, Tetsu! I picked up some mackerel at the store for dinner— _oh,_ ” The voice cut off when he realized someone else stood at the door. 

“I'm Kobayashi Reo.”

He scratched at the back of his neck— Kobayashi had seen pictures of him when he'd tried to figure out who currently lived at the house, in them he'd had his hair spiked up— Now however his hair flopped limply across his forehead with the roots streaked black. “Hey,” He smiled, “I'm Bokuto.” He warily eyed the opened door.

“I know.” Bokuto's eyes widened sharply. Kobayashi cleared his throat. “It was open when I got here,” Kobayashi lamely added— lest Bokuto think him to be some sort of goon kicking in or pick-pocketing doors. 

“Right,” Bokuto clicked his tongue, “C’mon in then.” 

Kobayashi found himself seated in an armchair across from three grown men piled up tight on a couch together. Bokuto had his ankles up on the coffee table and his arms thrown across the backrest. 

“I'm a big fan of your work on KSS,” Kobayashi couldn't help but say with a demure little glance at Tsukishima. “The locations you find are some of my favorite episodes.”

Tsukishima's eyebrows crawled up toward his hairline, “Then take my word for it _this location_ isn't all that interesting.” 

Kobayashi clicked on his recorder and set it down on the table. “What sort of activity did you experience in the house when you first moved in, Akaashi?” 

“Feelings mostly.”

“Feelings?” Kobayashi prompted with a gesture for him to continue.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied with a tip of his head. _Kobayashi wanted to let out a sigh and scream_. Finally he cleared his throat, “Negative ones.” 

“Great,” Kobayashi nodded, “Well, _not great_ you experienced it. But good to know.” He loudly coughed into his hand, “You reached out to KSS right, Bokuto?”

Bokuto gave a little pat to Tsukishima's shoulder, “Sure did!” He glared at him from behind the sharp reflection on his glasses. 

“Was that because of feelings you had in the house too?”

“We thought stuff might've been moving around,” Bokuto scratched at his chin, “But I think we just weren't used to living with another person, y’know?” 

“He messes up my kitchen,” Akaashi nodded pointedly. “Still does, actually.”

“What'd you think first coming onto the property, Tsukishima?”

He straightened up and folded his hands in his lap, “I thought it was a couple getting used to living with each other. You know how it can be I'm sure, Kobayashi.”

“Sure,” Kobayashi nodded even though _no, he really didn't_. “Hinata mentioned a nekomata.”

Bokuto barked out a laugh, “No! We just had a stray cat that liked to hang around.” 

“Does it still?”

Bokuto waved his hand back and forth, “Oh, no—” before he could finish they all heard the tinkle of a little bell. In wandered a huge, dark cat with its paws covered in slush. It loudly meowed toward them.

“That's a different cat, “Akaashi offered up while Tsukishima shot said cat a withering stare. The cat stretched out its thick paws and swished its tail to and fro. 

“Our cat,” Bokuto agreed with a tense nod. The cat wandered toward the couch and jumped up onto Tsukishima's lap. He reluctantly scratched behind its ears.

Kobayashi looked around the room— _no cat toys or cat tree._ “Did you get a cat recently?” 

Bokuto shook his head, “A few months ago.” 

“What's his name?”

Akaashi looked at Bokuto who then looked at Tsukishima. Finally Bokuto said, “Kuroo.”

Kobayashi couldn't help but laugh, “Like your friend?” Bokuto blanched a strange shade of green.

Tsukishima frowned deeply, “You met him?”

“Yes, when I stopped by the other day.”

“Then you know why he's named after him,” Bokuto reached over and picked up the cat. He balanced the large animal in his lap and ruffled the fur on his head, “They have the same hairstyle!” His laugh drifted off, “Er, Inside joke.” 

Kobayashi nodded, “I can see the resemblance.” _He couldn't at all actually— the cat looked fluffy and overweight whereas the man had been tall and lean._ Perhaps that was the joke? Bokuto pressed a kiss to the top of the cat's head and the large animal let out a loud purr. 

“There's no nekomata,” Akaashi spoke up. He picked at the dry skin on his nails. 

“This is purely hypothetical, just humor me here,” Kobayashi held his hands up, “If there was, would you tell me?”

Akaashi tipped his head back and his eyes looked so dark they could've been black, “If you have to ask, Mr. Kobayashi...” His voice drifted and he could just imagine: _you already know._

“Of course we would,” Tsukishima didn't bother to change his tone and the lie sounded obvious. He leaned forward in his chair, “As a professional in the same field, I'd expect you to respect we'd provide you with accurate information.” 

“I spoke a bit with Hinata and the rest of KSS,” Kobayashi leaned in toward them as well, “They couldn't tell me anything other than you becoming increasingly erratic while at this house.” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “I'm in the house now, do I seem erratic to you?” 

“No, you don't,” Kobayashi agreed, “Can I ask about the relationship between the three of you?” 

Bokuto grinned, “Sure! Akaashi and I have been together for about five years. We meant Tsukishima in early summer and hit it right off. Then he moved in.” 

Kobayashi nodded, “So you're what? All together?”

“You can say we're roommates,” Akaashi dropped his head into his palm, “I'd prefer not to be _polygamist titillation_ for your viewers.”

“Sure, sure— I get that,” _Even if he didn't really get it at all._ Kobayashi cleared his throat, “Any more details you want to give me about the haunting?”

“Nope,” Bokuto continued smiling.

Akaashi nodded, “I'm sure that’s everything.” Kobayashi disagreed but knew better than to argue. He gathered up his stuff and left the house.

Outside in the snow he nearly fainted when a cat lounged atop his car in the snow. It shook out its fur and pranced down toward him. He looked over his shoulder— _the cat looked like the one he'd seen inside, but it couldn't have gotten outside before him._

He turned his attention back to the cat and dropped his bag to the ground: two tails swished behind it. It meowed at him purposefully before sauntering up onto the porch.

Kobayashi lurched toward it like a puppet with its strings cut. _The cat vanished right in front of him_. Kobayashi stared numbly down at his outstretched hand.

He got into his car and stared at the wheel.

_What the hell happened at this house?_

* * *

“Did you hear?” Tsukishima slammed the magazine down on the table. _Ghost Sightings Weekly_. Bokuto didn't think they printed trash like that anymore. He'd have to get a subscription.

Kuroo smiled up at Tsukishima— _one of his big, shiteating grins_. “Hear what, Tsukki?” 

Tsukishima's face pinched up as he wrenched the magazine open. Bokuto let out a shrill laugh at the headline:

## Nekomata’s Victims Seduced Into Playing House! 

### Destination Nightmare Exclusive: The Honeymoon Edition 

Akaashi frowned from where he stood in the kitchen, “Do I even want to know?” _Well Bokuto certainly wanted to know now that he'd seen_ that _headline._

“We've become the _polygamist titillation_ you feared,” Kuroo offered up. Akaashi heaved out a sigh and went to the fridge. 

“At least we're the honeymoon edition?” Bokuto offered up and tried to crane closer to read the itty bitty text of the article. 

Tsukishima pointed a finger at Kuroo, “It's your fault! Apparently Kobayashi saw a _two-tailed cat_ on top of his car before he left!”

Kuroo looked up from underneath his bangs, _a perfect picture of innocence—_ so he'd definitely had something to do with it then. “Maybe he has an overactive imagination?” Akaashi placed three beers down on the table. He kept the fourth for himself and took a drink. 

He looked at Tsukishima and asked: “You want to read it aloud while I finish dinner?” 

“I wanna read it!” Bokuto lunged over and swiped up the magazine.

Akaashi rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, “Are you even literate?” 

“Hey!” Bokuto’s voice escaped in a high-pitched squawk.

Kuroo took it upon himself to pull the magazine away and start reading— _with the most drama and over-enunciation he could muster so Bokuto couldn't even be upset:_ “Winter on the coast can be desolate and unyielding. Such isn't the case for the lovenest cultivated by a cunning nekomata—”

Akaashi groaned into his beer, “Do I want to know the rest?”

A wrinkle formed between Tsukishima's brow, “If you want to hear all about our sexcapades with a _cat_ then yes.”

“— Who’s ensnared three men with a spell so tempting they'd never dream of breaking it. In fact, they'd defend their captor with their dying breath.” Kuroo set down the magazine and let out a jaunty little laugh, “You know, they aren't that wrong.” 

“Sure!” Bokuto agreed and leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek, “I'd defend you even after death, man.”

Kuroo grinned, “I love you too.” His hands tangled up in Bokuto’s hair and pulled him in for a proper kiss. He tasted like cheap beer and undeniably like Kuroo. Warm and sweet. 

“Good luck with that,” Akaashi called from where he fussed over his skillet in the kitchen. Heady and drunk off Kuroo's kisses, Bokuto couldn't find it in himself to be offended. 

Tsukishima tapped his index finger against the magazine, “Get to the part where it mentions _our stunningly good looks.”_

Kuroo laughed but continued to read: “With stunning good looks, the Nekomata picked out her victims— _wait_ —“

Akaashi scoffed out a laugh from the kitchen, “They think you're a girl, Kuroo?” Tsukishima snickered from behind his hand. 

“You'd be a hot chick, man, ignore them.” 

“Damn right, Bo,” Kuroo mustered up the strength to keep going, “— perfectly to serve as her husbands. With inhuman grace and obedience, the question remains: are they even still human themselves?” 

Tsukishima steepled his hands underneath his chin, “So are we still human?” 

Bokuto pinched his own bicep, “I feel pretty human.” He flexed his arm to chase away the sharp sting.

Akaashi poked his head out from the kitchen, “I become less human every time Bo speaks and a part of my soul dies.”

“C’mon, babe!”

Kuroo shook his head and smiled, “I really do love you guys— you could say I _ensnared you perfectly_.” Akaashi let out a groan and Tsukishima tossed the magazine at Kuroo's head.

Bokuto had to agree though-- he loved them a whole lot too. _Perfectly strange nekomata lovenest in their weird ass house over the wharf._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read this fic!   
> I've appreciated the kudos/comments a great deal

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Umioka is a completely fictional town. I was inspired to do a Japanese coastal/small town US fusion for the setting. 
> 
> 2\. I did a bit of research for this fic-- but Nekomatas aren't going to have a completely accurate/historical depiction. I take a lot of liberties with them. 
> 
> 3\. I hope you enjoyed so far! I've wanted to write a haunted house AU for a long time and I thought these four gentlemen would work great


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